


The Wolf's Imprint

by TheBroodyElf



Series: Cranberry and Wine [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Adoption, Alchemy, Ass-kicking blackbelts, Atheism, Awkward Conversations, Awkward situations, Classical Music, Cranberry juice, Crow shit, Drunken pissing escapades, Embarrassing thoughts, F/M, First Love, Grief, Guitars, Karate, Loss, Love, Murder, Piano, Prudes, Puppy Love, Puppy eyes, Religion, Revenge, Romance, Sex, Slavery, The Coterie, Vandalism, Virginity, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-17
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:51:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 137,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBroodyElf/pseuds/TheBroodyElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of a simple act of forgetfulness, an intense and all-consuming romance ensues between F!Hawke and the strange, "tattooed" man with the strange, foreign name. Rated M for obvious reasons. (first attempt ever by a clueless 18 year old, so my apologies for the many mistakes and oversights you will surely encounter in my writing!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Water… Must… drink… water…_

 _Just two more minutes and you can have your water, Hawke, don't mess this up!_

I'm panting like I'm running from a dragon with my ass on fire, and I'm sweating like a dog. I eye the cold, clear plastic water bottle on the treadmill's bottle-holder longingly, the dryness of my mouth and throat almost unbearable.

I glance at the time display on the treadmill: 53:45, 53:46, 53:47…

 _Just a minute to go, Hawke!_

I forcibly tear my thoughts away from my thirst and instead focus on the reflection in the mirrored wall facing me.

I see a pale, sweaty, shiny twenty five year old woman panting back at me, cheeks flushed red with her effort to stay on her feet and keep running. Her raven-black hair is cropped short, her pin-straight wispy bangs pulled away from her face with a black headband. She's quite ordinary looking- apart from her piercing blue eyes, that is. The blue eyes that now flit to the treadmill's time display one more time to see the much longed for '55:00' finally arrive.

I eagerly reach for the pause button and grab my water bottle, trying to gulp it down and breathe at the same time. My thirst satiated and my breath partially back, I resume the treadmill, bringing the speed down to a medium walking pace for the final five minutes of my hour long run.

As I cool down, I look back at the mirrored wall before me, this time focusing on my surroundings. I see the familiar mirrored walls all around the gym, the reflections making the place seem much larger than it really is. I see personal trainers alongside their panting, sweating clients, urging them to carry on with their various exercise routines. I see a stern-looking middle aged woman doing serious push-ups. Then, I see the time on the treadmill reach '60:00'.

I hop off the machine, gulping down more water. After a quick yet thorough stretch of my legs, I grab my towel and wipe the sweat off my face and neck, throwing it around my shoulders and heading towards the free weights section.

As I make my way towards the dumbbell rack, I approach a huffing and puffing young, blonde and extremely fit and muscular man doing some bench presses.

"Another tournament coming up soon, Al?" I ask as I pass by him.

He glances at me, gives me a quick smile and nods, before returning his full focus to the incredibly heavy barbell in his hands.

After a few sets of weight lifting, I stretch and gather my things to leave. Right as I'm about to leave the main gym area and head towards the female changing rooms, I hear someone behind me quietly clear his throat.

"Excuse me," a deep, male voice says. I quickly turn around to the source of the voice, "I believe this is yours."

I stare. No, I gape. Literally, mouth hanging open and all.

Right there, standing with an iPhone (my iPhone) in his outstretched hand, is a man. Not just any man; a man with the most incredible green eyes I have ever seen. I mention his eyes because they are the first thing I notice. My eyes then move to his hair, snow-white and sleek, to his skin, caramel and smooth. The last things I notice are the strange white markings on his chin. Delicate and beautiful, they appear to stretch down to his neck, but I can't tell for sure, seeing as the skin on his neck is concealed by his black turtle neck.

 _Huh. A turtle neck at the gym. Weird._

I quickly gather my thoughts and snap myself out of the strange trance-like state I'm in.

"Oh, right, er… thank you," I smile, reaching out for my phone. He hands it to me without touching my hand.

"No problem," he smiles, his green eyes fixated on mine. I am painfully aware of how sweaty I am. He, on the other hand, is dry, clean and smells of eau de cologne.

 _Obviously didn't work out yet_.

I realise that we're both standing there, staring into each other's eyes, and I lightly shake my head and shut my eyes to regain focus.

"Well, I'd better… you know… get to the shower and all," I mumble, looking down at my trainers.

"Of course."

 _That voice_.

"Thanks again," I smile. I quickly turn around and head straight to the shower.

Before I enter the changing room, however, I chance a glance back at where the strange man stopped me.

He's nowhere to be seen.


	2. Chapter 2

I have to admit, the fact that a mere chance encounter led to constant thoughts about the strange, tattooed man really irks me. I was never one to obsess over incredibly handsome, mysterious, taciturn and ethereal strangers with magical voices.

Well, maybe that's because I've never actually met any incredibly handsome, mysterious, taciturn and ethereal strangers with magical voices.

Until now.

Still, annoyed as I am with myself, I permitted myself the indulgence of falling asleep while thinking about him. And dreaming about him. It was a strange dream. I can barely remember it, really. All I know is that it involved a panting and sweating  _me_  chasing a calm and elusive  _him_. I was asking him a question and he refused to reply. He just smirked as he coolly and gracefully walked away, my pace never fast enough to catch up with him.

When I woke up the next morning, I resolved to put an end to this nonsense and shut that strange man out of my thoughts. It's working really well. So far, I've managed to get through an entire month without thinking about him once. I never saw him again after that day.

Well, if you don't count 'forcing myself not to think about him' as thinking about him, that is. Strictly speaking, I don't think that counts.

It's Monday afternoon, and I'm packing my gym bag with my karate kit and some clean clothes. I'm a karate instructor, and after being seen practising some moves on my own one day, the manager at the local Lowtown gym asked me whether I was willing to start holding classes there three times a week. I was all up for it.

"I'm off to the gym, Gam," I call out from the front door of my uncle's incredibly small apartment. My family and I arrived here in Kirkwall a little over a year ago when the civil war broke out back home in Ferelden. I wanted to stay but that was "out of the question", according to Mother.

You'd think that, as a twenty five year old, I would be able to make my own decisions. Apparently not.

"Don't be late," my uncle yells out from the kitchen. "Your brother is expected to be out of the hospital by 7 pm." My brother Carver had a motorcycle accident last night. His bike skidded out of control in the wet street. Mother told him not to go riding out in a storm, but being his typical self, Carver did it anyway.

"I won't," I reply. I head out to my parked Proton.

At the gym, I change into my karate kit and head off into Training Room 1, where I hold all of my karate sessions. I lay down my exercise mat and stretch.

I'm alone for around fifteen minutes before I hear the door fling open. I look up from my place on the mat to see who it is (class isn't due to start for at least another fifteen minutes).

"Hawke!" a short, stocky, muscular man calls out. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"

"Hey, Varric," I reply, resuming my stretching. "You know I always like to warm up before my class starts."

"Yeah, yeah, I forgot." He sounds distracted. Excited, more like.

"Listen Hawke, you know how you were looking for an assistant to help you out with your training sessions after Zev's back went bust?"

I nod.

"Well, I've got just the person for you! Fenris, come in here, pal."

I stop stretching and sit up straight, my interest piqued.

And once again, my jaw drops.

 _I can't believe it. It's him. It's freaking him!_

The tall, slim and taciturn man from last month, the one with the white hair and the white tattoos, walks into the room and stops beside Varric. He smiles down at me.

I hastily scramble up to my feet and straighten my kit.

"Ah. Err, I uh… had no idea you finally found help, Varric!"

 _Smooth, Hawke. Real smooth_.

"This isn't just help, Hawke. This is  _the_  help." Varric smiles at me expectantly for a few seconds, and when I don't say anything, he laughs impatiently.

"Well, say hello, Hawke, Fenris won't bite!"

I clear my throat nervously and smile at him… at Fenris _. Is that foreign? It must be. I've never heard that name before_.

"I'm Marian. A pleasure to meet you, Fenris," I say. I hesitantly extend my hand out to him.

He looks me right in the eye with that same, penetrating gaze as last time and smiles.

"The pleasure is all mine."  _That voice._ It comes from somewhere deep in his chest. It sends shivers down my spine.

He shakes my hand.

It takes all I have in me not to gasp. It feels as though an electric current passed through his hand into mine as soon as he touched it. My eyes dart down to our hands and take in the contrast between the caramel of his skin and the paleness of mine. His skin is warm and soft, and I can feel blisters on his palm.

I dart my eyes back to his, and I see something in them.

 _He must have felt it too_.

Varric clears his throat. I start, and I quickly slide my hand away from his. I look down, feeling my face go warm.

"Well, Hawke's the expert here, Fenris, so I'll just leave you two to it." Varric winks at me and leaves.

 _That man. I can almost see a tale spinning in that large head of his_.

We're left alone in the dimly lit training room, with me feeling awkward as hell.

"So, uhh… you… you're new here?"

"I am. Only been here a month."

I nod stupidly. It's awfully quiet.  _Say something, idiot!_

"What belt are you at?" I start rolling away my mat, purely for something to do and for a reason to look away from that piercing gaze of his.

"Seventh dan."

"Ah. So am I. That's a bit too advanced for an assistant, isn't it?"

"It is."

Extremely short answers are never good.

"Well, it's great to have you on board, Fenris."

"Thank you. I imagine it must be a relief to finally get some help. From what Varric tells me, your class is quite popular."

"Varric tends to exaggerate. A lot. But yeah, it is a relief." I smile. He seems quite out of place. Almost uncomfortable.

He smiles back. A half smile.

"I'd better go and change."

I nod. I watch him from the corner of my eye as he makes his way out of the training room.

 _Well… there goes my pact to never think about him again._


	3. Chapter 3

"Does it hurt?"

For the hundredth time, my little sister Bethany asks the same question to Carver.

"No, it doesn't!" Carver says with exasperation. "Maker, how many times do you have to ask me that, Beth?"

"Sorry," Bethany mumbles, casting her eyes down and looking hurt.

"Your sister's only concerned about you, Carver," Mother says from her seat by the fireplace. She's busy reading  _Kirkwall Today_ , her legs curled up on the couch.

"Yeah, well I don't need her concern," Carver snaps. I shake my head and roll my eyes at him.

 _Carver. Forever bitter, forever angry_.

I glance at Bethany, who has gone over to Wonka, our family dog. Seeing that she's still hurt, I get up from my place at the desk, where I was reading letters, and walk over to sit next to her on the wooden floor.

"Hey, you okay?" I ask her softly, wrapping my arm around her shoulders.

She looks at me with her kind amber eyes and nods. "This is Carver we're dealing with. I should have known better."

I laugh. "You know he meant nothing by it."

She nods again and smiles. Sweet Bethany. I worry for her sometimes. She seems too fragile, too vulnerable for this world.

I glance at the time.  _3 pm_.

I get up and stretch.

"Remind me again what you need from the market, Mother?" I ask.

"A batch of eggs and some bread. I think we'll pass on the chicken today; we're running low on cash. And don't forget, it's the eggs from the Hightown market I need; the ones we had from here last time were disgusting." She makes a face.

"Gotcha," I say. I grab my car keys off the hook on the main door and head off to my car.

I play my  _This Is War_  album really loud, singing along with Mr Leto's amazing vocals.

 _If I ever met Jared, I'd die. My heart would stop beating and I'd just die_.

I'm happy. I'm calm. I'm blissful.

My mind unintentionally wanders off to Fenris. My  _assistant_. Funny how things turn out. Of all people, it had to be  _him_.

That first day he helped me out, I was in awe. It felt so wrong calling him my assistant; he was just as good as I am, and not to blow my own horn or anything, but when it comes to karate, I know my stuff.

He's really patient. Whenever a student faltered or couldn't get something right, he'd stand by them and show them exactly what they were doing wrong, no matter how long it took. At the end of the class, he took a couple of young boys to a corner and spent some extra time working with them on improving their technique.

Needless to say, I was very impressed.

I drive across the bridge connecting Lowtown to Hightown and drive around in search of a parking spot.

 _I hate going to the market during the weekend_.

Finally, I park in a spot behind the Chantry and make my way towards the market square.

"Hawke?"

My head snaps up to the source of the sound.

"Worthy! Long time no see! How have you been, pal?"

"Surviving," the short, dark man replies. "I hear you've been doing well at the gym eh, with all your lessons and what not?"

"Yeah, lessons are going really well."  _In no small part due to our latest addition_.

"Good to hear," Worthy beams at me. "Heard about Carver's accident last week. Boy's doing well?"

"As well as Carver can get," I smirk. "A bit touchy, but well."

"That's good to hear. Listen, I know how much you like collecting runes and all, so let me know if you need any of 'em. I've been busy crafting a new collection lately, and they're turning out pretty good if I'm any judge!"

"Thanks, Worthy. I'll definitely drop by soon to have a look at what you've got."

"Alright, Hawke. You take care now!"

"Later, Worthy."

I make my way towards  _Bartrand's Bakery_  and pick up a few loaves of bread. After picking up a fresh batch of eggs from a little grocery next to the  _Viscount's Keep_ , I head back to my car.

When I turn around the corner, I stop dead in my tracks.

I see a couple of teenagers- no,  _hooligans_ \- spraying graffiti on my beloved Proton.

"Hey!" I yell at them, clutching the shopping bags close to my chest and running towards them. "Stop that! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Before I reach them, the idiots cackle madly and drop their spray cans, running in the opposite direction.

They didn't get far.

A woman, a strong and tall redhead dressed in a policeman's uniform, is standing squarely in front of them, blocking their path.

"Get your asses back to that lady and pay her the fifty sovereign fine for vandalism. Now."

The boys stare at her.

"I said," she says menacingly, " _Now_ ".

"But... but we do..don't have fif..fifty sovereigns to pay, Captain…"

"I don't care. Get over there and give her whatever you've got."

The boys stammer and head back towards me slowly, carefully looking over their shoulders at the woman with frightened looks on their faces. The taller of the two digs into his pockets and pulls out a few gold coins. The other pulls out a few silvers.

"Thi… this is all we have, serah," the taller one stammers.

I glare at them with as much venom as I can.

"I don't want your money," I say in a low voice. "But I promise you, if you so much as glance at my car in the future, you'll be sorry you were ever born."

"Ye…yes serah! Thank you!" They both ran off without so much as another look at me or the redheaded Captain.

After glaring at their running figures for a while, I sigh and survey my car.  _My beautiful, beloved car_.

The damage isn't too severe. They sprayed on a few random words and drawings across the driver's side and on the bonnet, and it's nothing rude or insulting. Just random smiley faces and other kiddie stuff.

 _Urgh_.

"It'll come off after a good scrubbing." The Captain is standing beside me, her stern green eyes examining my car too. "It was generous of you to let them go like that." She looks at me.

"They're kids," I shrug. "My siblings have done worse."

"I see." She smiles. "Well, it's getting dark. Streets aren't safe at night, not even here in Hightown. You'd best be on your way."

"I… yes." I pause. "Thank you, Captain…"

"Aveline."

"Well, thank you, Captain Aveline. I appreciate your help."

"I did nothing." She smiles one last time and nods her head once before walking away.

I get into my car and immediately drive back home.

I'm very wary of the fact that my car has got graffiti all over my side, but I try my best to convince myself that it's too dark for anyone to notice.

As I'm humming along to  _Hurricane_  and driving across the connecting bridge, I spot someone walking on the footpath alongside the bridge.

I do a double-take.

 _White hair_.

It can't be.

I squint my eyes and slow down, focusing on the walking figure, who has his back turned to me.

I glance in the rear view mirror. No one's behind me. I slow down considerably as I drive closer to the person.

I'm right beside him.

He stops. My heart stops.

His large eyes look up and into my car, directly into my eyes.

 _How does he do that?_

I smile and press the button to roll down the window.

"Hawke?"

"Hey, Fenris! What're you doing, walking alone this late? It's not safe."

"I can take care of myself." He doesn't say it sternly. More like a matter-of-factly.

"Where're you heading?" I ask.  _Okay, am I really doing this?_

He hesitates. "I… I've got a meeting in Lowtown."

My heart stops again.  _He's got a girlfriend. Of course he has a girlfriend, Hawke! You idiot. How can someone that good looking_ not _have one?_

"A business partner," he adds.

 _Maker, did he just read my mind? Or were my thoughts written all over my face?_

"Oh." I recover. "Do you… want a ride? I'm heading home so, it's not out of the way…"

He hesitates again. I can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

"Sure," he smiles.  _My heart_.

I reach over to unlock the door and let him in. Before he does, however, I notice his eyes glance at my car's bonnet. A smirk forms on his full lips.

"Some kids did that. Just now, actually." I hope he can't see me blushing.

"It'll wash off," he says quietly as he slips into my car.  _So agile. Like a tiger. No. A wolf_.

I commence the drive back to Lowtown. I turn down the music just to be polite.

" _30 Seconds To Mars_?" he asks, glancing at me. I can feel his eyes on my face.

"Yeah, love them."

"So do I." I can hear the hint of a smile in his voice.

"So, where to in Lowtown?"

"Well, I'm supposed to meet the guy in the Bazaar, but that isn't until an hour or so. I thought that, since I was walking, I'd leave earlier just to be on time. But now that you're driving me… you can just drop me off wherever. Lowtown's not huge. I'm sure I can walk."

An idea springs into my head.

"Do you wanna maybe have a drink or something while you wait? I'm in no hurry."

 _I can't believe I just said that_.

He doesn't reply immediately. Instead, I feel his eyes dart from me to his hands, which are folded on his lap.

"I…" he glances up at me.

"It's alright if you can't," I say quickly. "I just thought since-"

"No, I'd like to, actually."

I pause.

"Really?"

"Yes," he smiles. "I should get to know my boss a bit better, don't you think?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm hardly your boss. More like your colleague."

His smile widens. "Colleague, then."

"Great. Well, everywhere is pretty much closed now except for the  _Hanged Man_. I hope you don't mind going there. I know it's not the greatest place to get a drink, but Varric, the manager at the gym, is now part owner of the place and… well… it's pretty decent now thanks to him."

"I don't mind the  _Hanged Man_ ," he responds quietly.  _Maker, that_ voice.

"Great. The  _Hanged Man_  it is."

 _Okay, Hawke. This is happening. This is really happening. He's with you in your car, and you're about to have a drink with him. For an hour. Do NOT mess this up_.

I glance at him. He's looking out his side's window.

He's smiling.


	4. Chapter 4

  


"I thought I'd never find a parking spot! Today is just not my parking spot day, is it?"

Fenris chuckles quietly. "Let's just hope no one else adds anything to your already embellished car."

I laugh. "Maker, I certainly hope not!"

We walk towards the entrance of the tavern. I notice that Fenris picks up his pace in the last few steps.

He reaches over to the door handle and yanks it open.

"After you," he says quietly- so quietly I can barely hear him over the noise coming from the tavern.

The faintest hint of a smile.

I blush as I smile back at him. "Thank you."

 _Such a gentleman_.

He follows me into the crowded tavern, which reeks of-

"Sour ale, vomit, and the smell of desperation," Fenris says dryly with a smirk on his face.

"Only in the Hanged Man," I grin.

"Hawke!"

I look up the staircase leading to the upper floor.

 _Huh. Talk of the devil!_

"Varric!" I smile, making my way towards him. I glance back and see Fenris right behind me.

"And you've brought our newest member with you, I see," Varric says as he smiles at the two of us. "What, dating already?" He smirks mischievously.

I feel the blood flood into my cheeks. I avoid Fenris' eyes and smile shyly. "Can't people have drinks with a friend nowadays without the added drama, Varric?" I ask jokingly.

"Not if they're both young and single. But I shouldn't pry."  _That smirk. I know you're up to something, Varric_. "So, drinks on the house?"

"You don't have to do that," Fenris says. I look at him. It's the first time I notice what he's wearing: a dark, charcoal-grey turtle neck ( _again with the turtle neck_ ), which is fitted and oh so accentuates those amazing shoulder and chest muscles, black jeans, and grey and black Oxfords.

The man seriously knows how to dress. There's none of the ratty, baggy-jeans-with-your-boxers-on-display look going on here.

"My friend, it would be a disgrace if I  _didn't_  do that," Varric says, throwing his arm around Fenris' broad shoulders. "And can I suggest the new VIP lounge on the first floor? The main area isn't the best place to be right now. Well, unless you're up to shouting across the table to hear each other and getting spew all over your shoes, that is."

The idea of being with Fenris in a quiet, dim, small lounge gives me butterflies. I smirk to hide my increasing nervousness.

"But it wouldn't be the Hanged Man if we  _didn't_  get spew all over our shoes!"

"Come, now, Hawke. I need to get your opinion on the new lounge! It's been nearly two weeks since its opening already and you haven't even seen it yet!"

I glance at Fenris, who is standing stoically by my side. "What do you think, Fenris? Quiet new lounge, or crowded main floor?"

His eyes meet mine. "Whatever you like, Hawke. I'm the new guy here, remember?"

 _A smirk_.

"I…"  _I need to pull myself together, that's what!_ "Uhh… fine, Varric. For your sake, the VIP lounge it is."

I chance another glance at Fenris just to make sure the idea of being cooped up with me doesn't bother him, but his expression doesn't give away anything.

 _A calm, stoic mask. Wish I could do that. My face is like a freaking open book_.

"Excellent!" Varric claps me hard on the back. "To the VIP lounge, my karate friends!"

I laugh.  _Well, at least I can count on Varric to ease up the mood_.

Varric shows us to a sliding glass door. He takes out a card from his wallet and scans it at the door, which instantly slides open, revealing a dimly lit and extremely elegant and expensive looking lounge, with blood-red velvet chairs surrounding ultra-polished, little round tables. The walls are covered in a regal-looking burgundy wallpaper, and the floor is made of black and shiny marble, the white veins contrasting against the darkness of the room. In the very centre is a brilliant chandelier, dangling above a neon-lit circular bar, with two bar tenders standing inside it, serving the only other two people in the room.

"Wow," I whistle appreciatively. "You've really outdone yourself this time, Varric."

"I have, haven't I?" Varric smirks. "Well, just pick a table and I'll leave you guys to it."

"What, you aren't gracing us with your presence?" I try to hide the sudden fear I have with more humour.

"I'm a very busy man, Hawke, you know that. You two enjoy yourselves. Knock yourselves out. And don't forget: it's on the house."

Varric winks at me and leaves.

Feeling incredibly awkward, I smile at Fenris and move my head in the direction of the bar. He silently follows.

 _I hope he's as nervous as I am. He must be. Why else would he be so darn quiet? Or is he always this quiet?_

 _Not everyone turns into blithering idiots when they're nervous, Hawke. That's just you, remember?_

 _Ah. Right_.

"What can I get you? Oh, hey Marian!"

"Isabela! What are you doing here?"

"Varric finally agreed to give me the job, that little wanker. Took me three whole months to convince him. You should've seen the look on Norah's face when she found out! She was seething with jealous rage!" She cackles like a pirate.

"What on earth did you do to change his mind?" I wonder aloud sarcastically.

"Oh, stop, I didn't do anything like  _that_ ," she laughs. Her amber eyes slide to Fenris. "Who's your new friend, kitten?"

I don't like the look in her eyes right now. I  _especially_   **do not**  like the sudden seductive purr in her voice.

I look at Fenris to try and decipher his emotions, only to fail. Again.

"Fenris," he nods at her.

 _No hint of a smile. Good_.

I always feel insecure around Isabela. She has got to be the most beautiful woman in all of Kirkwall, in my humble opinion. That lustrous, ebony hair, that smooth, chocolate, Rivainni skin, those mischievous, amber eyes and those ample, always-on-display breasts. Not to mention that fine behind of hers! And if anyone knows seduction, it's Isabela.

"Fenris," she purrs, repeating the exotic name. Her eyes look positively dangerous right now.  _She's like a cougar_. "I'm Isabela, captain of this… well… lounge." She smiles at him.

"Pleasure." He merely nods again.

 _So not interested. Either that, or he's_  really _good at hiding it_.

"So, what can I get you two tonight?" Isabela asks, her eyes dangerously lingering on Fenris' pectorals.

See, that's the difference between Isabela and I: I value faces and personality. She, on the other hand, is more of a "I only care for your hot body" kinda gal.

"Just a cranberry juice for me, Izzy."

"What, you on your period?" Isabela eyes me incredulously.

"No," I shrug, internally wanting to strangle her. "I don't really do alcohol, that's all."

"No wonder you're so uptight most of the time," she sneers. "Kitten, think of it as a tranquillity tonic; all your worries go away for a few hours before you're back to your normal, uptight self!"

"Thanks, but no thanks, Izzy. Just the cranberry.  _No_  alcohol," I add sternly.

"Fine, one boring cranberry juice, coming right up," she rolls her eyes. "And what about you, Fenris?"

 _Does she have to say his name like that?_

"Just a glass of Agreggio, please."

"Coming right up," she purrs.

 _I am going to strangle that Rivainni little-_

"Here you go. Enjoy!"

"Thanks," I say curtly. She winks at me before I turn and head towards a table.

"Do you usually not drink, or is it because you're driving tonight?"

My heart skips a beat at the unexpected proximity of his voice.

"Nah, I'm just not a drinking kind of person. The smell, for one, really puts me off. The taste is a whole other matter. Plus, I have a really low tolerance threshold, although that's probably because I don't drink. But yeah, alcohol and I just don't sit well together, I guess."

I shrug and look at him. He's sitting right across the little round table from me, and I feel my heart jolt again when I realise just how close his face is to mine.

"Hmmm."  _Maker's breath, the way his voice comes from his chest!_  "I'm quite partial to red wine. Especially this one: the Agreggio." He swirls the contents of his glass in his hand, watching it absent-mindedly. He then lifts the glass to his lips and sips.

I follow suit and sip on my (very boring) cranberry juice.

"So… had a good day?" I ask.

He shrugs.

"Not bad."

I nod and drum my fingers on the table.  _I should really stop biting my nails_.

"You live in Hightown, right?" I ask.

"Yeah."

 _Again with the one-worded answers_.

"So, do you always walk all the way from Hightown to the gym here in Lowtown?"

He nods.

"I'm very fond of walking. Gives me time to myself. To think."

"I really like walking too, but not from Hightown to Lowtown and back at least three times a week," I smirk. "Well, that's not true. Blame my car for my newfound laziness. I actually used to walk that distance a lot when I first arrived here."

"When did you first arrive here?"

"A little over a year ago. We fled the civil war in Ferelden. My mother's family is here. We're staying with my uncle in his apartment here in Lowtown until we find our own place to stay. My idiotic uncle gambled away the family estate in Hightown, you see, so we're stuck here for the time being."

"How very responsible of him," he smirks.

My heart skips yet another beat. _Andraste's flames, how does he do that?_

"Yeah, well," I shrug again. I'm shrugging  _a lot_.

We don't say anything for a short while after that. I'm pretending to be busy swirling the straw in my drink, while he slowly sips his wine.

"So, how do you like it here so far? You've only been here for what, a little over a month now?"

"Nearly two." He puts his glass down. "It's good, I guess. Needs a bit of getting used to."

"Oh, it takes a while to get used to Kirkwall, believe me. Where're you from, anyway?"

He hesitates. His eyes look down at his glass.

"Tevinter" I hear him gulp.

"That was quite the voyage. What made you move here?"

He refuses to look at me.

"Just… wanted a change, I guess. I've been there long enough."

"I hear it's beautiful there."

"Not really."

 _Okay. Drop the subject and move on, Hawke_.

"I hope you're enjoying the karate classes. You're a really great teacher." I smile warmly at him. It worked. He finally looks up at me with a hint of a smile on his incredibly handsome face. I notice that, from the neon lights in the bar, his white tattoos are glowing.

"I am." He pauses and observes me for a while. "It feels good, doing something I love for a living."

"Yeah, it certainly is. When did you first start training?"

"Oh, farther back than I care to remember." His hands wander over to the tattoos on his chin, and I realise for the first time that he isn't wearing the fingerless black gloves he always wears to our training sessions.

 _The tattoos are on his hands, too_.

He notices my eyes focusing on his tattoos, and he hastily puts his hand back down on his lap. The tone of his voice changes. It darkens, like a bad memory occurred to him.

"I… need to go to the bathroom." He stands up quickly.  _Definitely something wrong_. "Excuse me."

I watch him as he walks away.

 _Did I do something wrong? Are my questions too invasive? I barely know the guy! I've only known him for a few weeks, and I'm already throwing all kinds of questions at him. Gah, I am such an IDIOT_.

"Marian!"

I start at the sudden sound. Isabela is sitting across from me in Fenris' seat.

"Tell me everything! Where in Thedas did you find that perfect thing? I need all the details!"

"He's coming back, you know" I mumble. I'm convinced I've ruined everything tonight.

"Make it quick, then!" She leans across the table, her ample bosom nearly spilling over her white, low cut top.

"He just teaches karate with me at the gym. He's not my date or anything."  _I sound_ so _miserable right now_.

Isabela whistles appreciatively. "Maker, he is HOT. You'd better claim him soon, kitten, before I get my hands on him!"

I don't say anything. Isabela must notice the miserable look on my face.

"Wait… he doesn't have a girlfrie-"

She stops midsentence. We hear a very loud breaking sound; the sound of glass shattering.

"Woopsie!" a youthful female voice says.

"Oh,  _Merrill_ ," Isabela groans and buries her face in her arms on the table. "I'd better go and see what she broke this time." She sighs and heads back to the bar.

Just then, I see Fenris walking towards our table.

"I think I should get going," he says quietly. "You know, for my meeting."

"Of course," I say. I quickly stand up and head towards the sliding glass door. "I'll see you later, Izzy!" I call out to the bar, where Isabela is busy helping the other bar tender, Merrill, with cleaning up whatever it was that Merrill broke. She waves and winks.

"I can drive you to the Bazaar, you don't have to walk." I'm hoping and praying and crying on the inside for him to agree.  _Please, pleeaaaaase say yes!_

"I… Thank you. That would be great." He's smiling.

 _Yes! Okay, that's a good sign, isn't it? Smiling's always a good sign_.

"Great!" I say a bit too enthusiastically.

 _Subtle much?_

I wave to Varric, who is busy entertaining a group of extremely beautiful looking young women, and we head out to my car. I notice that Fenris takes care to leave a certain distance between us.

 _He's clearly uncomfortable around me. Sigh. I can't even have a freaking drink without drastically messing things up_.

We drive silently for a while. I turn on the radio.  _Billie Jean_  by Michael Jackson is playing.

"I love this song."

We both say it together, at the  _exact_  same time, with the  _exact_  same tone.

I blush and purse my lips, keeping my eyes on the road. I see him shift in his seat.

 _Is he anywhere near as nervous as I am?_

We arrive at the Bazaar. I stop the car under a street lamp.

"Listen, Hawke…"

My heart stops.

"Yeah?" I gulp.  _My knuckles are white from gripping the freaking steering wheel!_

"Thanks for… for this. The drive and drinks. I… I had a good time."

"So did I," I smile.  _My face must be so red right now! And why is my throat so unbelievably dry? It's like I'm on the treadmill all over again._

He unbuckles and shifts in his seat to face me. He gazes into my eyes for what seems like ages, and I completely forget how to breathe.

"I'm not very good with… with people. I hope my demeanour didn't put you off or anything. If I seem ungrateful, nothing could be further from the truth."

I nod.  _What else can I do? I've lost the ability to speak!_

He glances at the time display on the dashboard.

"Well, I'd better get going." He opens the door and partially steps out. He looks over his shoulder. "Goodnight, Hawke."

"Night," I whisper.

Again, he hesitates, but only for a second. That beautiful half smile of his forms on his lips again, and he steps out and closes the door.

He looks at me through the glass of the window one last time, then quickly turns and walks away, his figure gradually disappearing into the shadows.

I just stay there, parked and immobile, for the longest time.

 _Fenris_.

  



	5. Chapter 5

  


I'm lost. I'm a twenty five year old grown woman and I am lost.

 _Maker, since when did the Underground have to get so darn complicated? Riding the tube in Ferelden was a piece of cake!_

I look around for a map or an information centre.

 _This place is so crowded, I can barely see the freaking walls!_

Nothing. I see no maps and no information centre.

 _This city is hopeless._ **Hopeless**.

I roam around the station, trying to look for something or someone who can guide me to my destination.

I don't even see a single security guard. The ticket booth is out of the question, with that unbelievably long queue.

I scan my surroundings, trying to look for someone who doesn't look destitute or who isn't begging for coins. Someone  _normal_.

At last, I see a tall, blonde man with enormous headphones covering his ears, reading a glossy magazine.

 _He seems normal enough_.

I clear my throat as I approach him.

"Excuse me."

He doesn't respond.

I try again, louder this time.

"Excuse me!"

He looks up from his magazine with a startled expression on his face.

"Oh, sorry!" He scrambles to pull off his headphones.  _Wow. That music is LOUD_. "Didn't hear you there!"

"It's alright," I smile. "I uhh… it's my first time using the tube, and I'm kind of lost. I tried looking for a map or an information desk, but I couldn't. Do you have any idea which line I should take to get to Sundermount?"

"Sundermount? Sure!" He has very kind honey-brown eyes. "I'm going there too! It's the green line tube, always the same one. It gets here in about…" he glances at his watch.  _Is that a cat in his watch's background?_  "Two minutes." He smiles down at me.

"Thank you so much!"

"No problem" he grins. "In fact, I've got a little map of the entire Underground, if you need it."

"That would be brilliant!" I pause. "But… I can't take yours… if you'd just tell me where I can get one for myself-"

"No, have it! I've got plenty to spare. I always make sure I keep several copies of maps. I'm hopeless at directions, you see." He chuckles lightly.

 _Adorable_.

He rummages in his backpack and pulls out a little, folded map.

"All yours," he smiles.

"I can't thank you enough," I say. "Seriously, you're a life-saver!"

"Always happy to help," he says cheerfully.

Just then, the tube to Sundermount arrives. I wait for one of the several carriage doors to slide open and hop in. The blonde guy is right behind me.

I quickly find a seat by a window. I love looking out of windows, even if all I see is the complete blackness of the Underground tunnels whiz by me.

Blondie sits opposite me.

"I'm Anders, by the way," he smiles, extending his hand towards me.

"Marian," I shake his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Marian." His smile is so sweet and genuine; his brown eyes crinkle at the sides. "So," he plops his heavy backpack on the empty seat beside him, "it's your first time visiting Sundermount, I take it?"

"It is. I've never really heard of it before. I'm only going because I promised someone back home I'd get something delivered for them."

"And you told me it's your first time using the tube?"

"Yeah. Normally, I'd drive, but my car's getting some work done at the moment." I grimace as my mind flits back to my failed attempts at scrubbing off the graffiti. I had to take it to the manufacturers and get it repainted.

"Your accent is very familiar." He gasps. "Say, you're not Fereldan, are you?"

"I am. I don't suppose you're Fereldan too?"

"I am! I only left around a year ago, after the civil war broke out."

"So did I. Kirkwall is just teeming with Fereldans, isn't it?"

"It certainly is," he says, tucking a loose strand of his hair behind his ear.  _His hair's longer than mine. Wait… Fenris' hair is longer than mine. Maybe it's time I grew out my hair?_

 _Who am I kidding? I can't manage long hair_.

I realise that Anders' knees are touching mine. I feel a bit uncomfortable, but there isn't really much room to move, so I just deal with it.

"So… where in Ferelden are you from?" He's very chatty. I'm liking him more and more with every passing minute.

"Lothering. Well, we moved around a lot when I was younger, but Lothering was my home for ten years before we left." I stop and feel a sudden sadness flood my heart.

 _I miss Lothering. I miss Ferelden_.

I force myself to stop thinking about it. "What about you?"

"Me?" he laughs darkly. "I've been cooped up in a boarding school near Lake Calenhad for as long as I can remember."

"Really? So, you never lived with your family?"

"Nope."

"Oh. Are they… dead?"

"Oh, no, they're alive. I just wasn't allowed to see them. I didn't even see them before I left to come here."

"How come?"

"The school I was at… it's… well…complicated. I tried escaping seven times before I was finally able to leave for good."

"So, you were caught each time?"

"Eventually, yes" His expression sours. "They had ways of tracking us down. Luckily, I took care of that."

I sense a note of finality in his tone.  _Drop the subject, Hawke. You always tend to go with the inappropriate, intrusive subjects_.

"Next stop, Sundermount," a recorded female voice says from the speakers. I stand up as the tube starts to slow down. Anders quickly follows suit.

We get off the tube together.

"Well, I'm catching the connecting tube to The Coast, so…"

"Oh, right." I extend my hand out to him. "Well, thanks again for your help, Anders."

"Don't mention it," he beams, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't get lost on your way back!"

I laugh. "Thanks to your maps, I think I'll manage."

"Alright then. You take care, Marian. Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

"Maybe."

"Where do you live?"

"Lowtown. We're lodging at my uncle's for the time being." I make a face.

"You're squatting in the lap of luxury in comparison to where I'm staying."

I stare at him. When I don't say anything, he chuckles.

"Darktown."

"No way" I am in  _shock_.

"Oh, yes way," he says. He shifts the heavy backpack onto one shoulder. "Kind of financially struggling right now." He grimaces briefly before going back to his cheery self. "But I'm nearly always in the _Hanged Man_ , so maybe I'll run into you there sometime?"

"You never know" I smile.

"Alright, then. You take care, Marian" He grins at me and heads off further into the tube station to catch his connecting ride.

 _What a nice guy_.

* * *

Monday.

I've been dreading Monday for a while. Ever since that night at the Hanged Man on Saturday, I've been really nervous about seeing Fenris again. Something changed that night. In the car, when I dropped him off at the Bazaar. I can't point out what it is, but something definitely changed, and I'm not sure if it's for the better. The way he looked at me as he tried to explain himself… was different. It was almost as though he felt he owed me the explanation, like I had a right to know.

I roll over in bed and check the time on my phone.  _8:15 am_. I sigh and put the phone back on the bedside table, rolling onto my back. I stare at the white ceiling above me, my eyes seeing that exotic, captivating face, remembering how his mood suddenly darkened upon my mentioning of when he first started training… how he hid his hands away when he noticed my gaze lingering on them…

How his eyes lingered on mine before he stepped out of my car. How he hesitated after he wished my goodnight.

I hear my stomach rumble, but I don't feel like eating. I haven't felt like eating since that night. Before Saturday, I was intrigued by him- attracted as well, definitely, but more intrigued. I never experienced anything like losing my appetite or sleep over him. After Saturday night, however, the intrigue turned into something else, something deeper, something more profound. I didn't sleep at all that night, and last night was no different.

I get up, stretch, and head towards the bathroom. After my daily morning preparatory ritual (which really involves nothing more than washing my face and brushing my teeth), I head towards the tiny kitchen and try to eat some breakfast.

I can't. I just have no appetite whatsoever.

I forcefully gulp down a protein shake nonetheless, knowing that I'll need the energy for my class in the afternoon.

"Marian?"

I nearly choke at the sudden sound.  _Everyone was fast asleep a second ago!_

"Oh, it's you, Mother. Good morning," I smile (or attempt to). She looks worried.

"Sweetheart, what's the matter? You look so tired!"

"Nothing," I mumble, throwing the empty drink carton into the trash.

"Are you sure?" she walks towards me and touches my forehead. "Temperature's fine-"

"Mother, I'm fine!" I move my face away from her hand. She continues to appraise my face, her brow furrowed and her blue eyes worried.

"You have dark circles under your eyes, dear. You never get those unless you're not feeling well!"

"Bad dream. Didn't sleep well last night."  _Liar_.

She doesn't buy it. I always was such a bad liar.

"Maybe you should take the day off and skip your class today, sweetheart."

I look at her as though she suddenly declared herself to be a flying nug.

"Skip class! Are you mad?" her expression turns angry. "Sorry," I quickly mumble. "It's just that my classes are really important to me, there's no way I can skip any of them. And besides, how many times do I have to tell you that I'm perfectly fine? Stop worrying, Mother."

"Fine," she sighs with resignation. "You're a grown woman. Sometimes I forget that you're no longer the little five year old in pigtails.

I roll my eyes. "You're twenty years late, Mother."

She smiles. "You'll always be my baby, sweetheart." She kisses me on the cheek and shuffles off to the bathroom.

I just stand there in the kitchen for a while. I check Wonka's food and water, take out the trash, and get the mail.

I peer into the bedroom (the only one; Uncle Gamlen has very kindly offered to sleep on the couch in the living room for the past year, although I strongly suspect that's where he's always slept, seeing as he's a television addict) to check on the twins.

Still fast asleep.  _Carver's snoring is getting out of control_.  _Or is that Wonka?_

I hear mother in the shower. I creep into the living room and see that Gamlen's asleep as well.

 _Darn it. There goes my plan to watch some television_.  _Doesn't that man have work to go to or something?_

Apparently, my dear uncle is an entrepreneur who "works in his own time" and is his "own boss". No wonder he's stuck in Lowtown, with a boss like that.

Left with absolutely nothing to do, I absent-mindedly surf the (incredibly slow) internet on my laptop until the rest of the family slowly starts to wake up, my case of nerves increasing with each passing minute.

* * *

As usual, I'm the first to arrive at the training room. I carry out my usual routine of dimming the lights, rolling out my exercise mat, and stretching.

It's very quiet.  _Not very helpful for my nerves_.

I grimace and internally scold myself for being such a child.

 _There's nothing to be nervous about, Hawke. He'll just come in a few minutes before everyone else does, as usual, you'll train and it'll all be-_

 _Click_.

I pause, frozen in an awkward stretching position. My heart switches to sprint-mode almost instantaneously.

The door opens.

  



	6. Chapter 6

_Shit_.

"Hawke?"

My throat is dry.

 _You can do this, Hawke_.

I can do this.

He's standing by the entrance, as though unsure whether he should come in or not.

"Hey, Fenris" The calmness of my voice surprises me.

"Hey" He smiles and slowly walks towards me. He's already in his karate kit. "I hope you don't mind that I'm here this early... I just thought I'd warm up with you, if that's alright."

I stare.

 _Am I dreaming?_

"Of course it's alright!"

He smiles down at me before he sets down his gym bag at his feet and pulls out an exercise mat. He places it facing me, a short distance away.

"So, had a good weekend?"

He asks me this.  _He's actually starting a conversation with me._

"Yeah. Went to Sundermount for the first time. It's a very beautiful place."

"I've never been to Sundermount."

"You should go sometime. The views are breathtaking."

"Hmm."

Silence. He starts stretching on his mat.

 _Maker's breath, he's so flexible! And so unbelievably fit! Oh, Maker-_

He pauses mid-stretch.

 _Was I staring at him? Did he catch me staring at him? I am such a CREEP._

I clear my throat and look down as I continue to touch my fingers to my toes.

"How's your car?"

"My car?"

"You know, the spray paint and all. Did you manage to wash it off?"

"Oh! That!"  _Idiot_. "Nah, it wouldn't come off. I scrubbed it so hard, my arms are still sore. Even my brother, Carver, had a go. I dropped it off at my friend's garage. He told me it needed to be repainted."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Apparently, the stupid kids used permanent paint. Wouldn't come off no matter what."

"That can't be good."

"Yeah, well, kids nowadays days. What can you do?"

He chuckles. "Very true."

He stops stretching and looks at me. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, then thinks better of it and closes it.

The door slams open as the students start filing in.

 _Shit_.

* * *

"Alright, everyone. Don't forget that your grading is next week, so anyone who isn't sure about something or has any questions or problems with technique, make sure you see either me or Sensei Fenris before Friday! Otherwise, see you all on Wednesday."

I wipe some sweat off my forehead with a towel and drink some water. I stuff my black belt into my gym bag.

Fenris is talking to two intermediate level boys by the door. I sigh and yank my bag off the floor, making my way towards the exit.

As I pass by, Fenris catches my eye. I smile and wave at him and (very reluctantly) head off to the changing room.

After a quick shower, I stop for a chat with my good friend Alistair (purposely stretching the conversation in the hope of seeing Fenris before I leave) and make my way to the exit, my spirits feeling low.

When I pass through the sliding doors out of the building, I stop dead in my tracks.

There he is, leaning against the wall with one leg bent, his gym bag on the floor.

He looks up when I walk out.

"Hawke," he smiles and stands up straight. "I was beginning to think I missed you."

 _My heart has fallen into my guts_.

"Fenris! No, no, I'm still here."  _Nawww, really?_

His smile widens. "I… was hoping we could… talk."

 _I think my heart has officially fallen out of my bum_.

"Of…of course," I smile.  _Okay, no, heart's still there, hammering against my ribs_. "Do you want to talk here or…"

"I know you don't have a car right now, so… maybe I could…" his eyes dart down to his feet and back up at me. "Maybe I could walk you home?"

I stare.

 _I really want to pinch myself so bad right now_ …

 _Ouch_!

 _Yep. Not dreaming_.

"That… yeah, that'd be great!" I rub my neck and try my best not to look like I've just won the lottery.

His eyes brighten up.

I take a deep breath and walk to his side, smiling as I do so.

"I kinda live in the other end of town so, it's not exactly a short walk…"

"That's alright. I'm very fond of walking," he smiles.  _We're almost exactly the same height_.  _And he smells so good. Did he shower real quickly just to catch up with me? He's definitely showered; his hair's damp._

"Yeah, I know," I smile back. "To my uncle's, then!"

"To your uncle's," he repeats.  _I've never seen him smile so much! Did he get laid? I bet he got laid. Maybe he went back to Isabela in the_ Hanged Man  _and hooked up with her. Maker help me, I am going to kill that cackling pirate!_

"I never really thanked you for agreeing to let me help out with your classes," he says, his voice snapping me out of my disturbing fantasies, which involve the various ways of inflicting severe pain on Isabela.

"You don't need to do that. I'm the one who should be thanking you. You've been a great help."

He answers me with yet another smile.

We walk silently in the empty streets for a while. I am determined not to ask him any questions. Not after that disastrous reaction of his in the  _Hanged Man_.

"So… you live with your family, right?"

"I do. My mother and my younger twin siblings. We're staying at my uncle's place."

"Yes, you mentioned that on Saturday."

 _He remembers insignificant details about my life_.

Feeling encouraged, I brave asking him a question.

"Where do you stay in Hightown?"

He doesn't answer immediately.

"An… acquaintance of mine agreed to let me 'borrow' his mansion while I'm here."

"While you're here? You mean, you're not staying here permanently?"

 _Maker, don't do this to me. Please, please don't do this to me. Please let him say-_

"I'm not so sure. When I first arrived here, I thought it would be a short visit. But…" His eyes meet mine.

I can see that this is difficult for him, this talking with someone about himself business, so I egg him on.

"But?" I give him an encouraging smile.

The smile must have worked, because his eyes suddenly turn warm.

"But, a few things happened that made me change my mind." He says this with his eyes intent on mine the entire time.

"So you're staying?" It's amazing how steady my voice is when I'm actually on the brink of hyperventilating.

"I could see myself staying. For the right reasons."

 _Thank the Maker!_ I breathe easy again. Well, as easy as I can breathe when I'm around him, that is.

"Well, you've got a job here and all. Will your 'acquaintance' need his mansion back anytime soon?"

At this, he quickly darts his eyes away from mine and stares ahead.

"I don't know. I don't think so."

 _He looks uncomfortable. Oh Maker, here we go again. Me and my impertinence!_

"Well, I'm sure things will work out. One way or another."

"I certainly hope so."

Another stretch of silence ensues. I notice that he's careful to keep a certain distance between us, but not as much as on Saturday night. Our shoulders almost touch.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. He has the most perfect profile I have ever seen. His nose is perfectly straight and Grecian, his cheekbones are high and defined, and  _Maker's breath_ , that jaw is _perfect_. My eyes then move to his perfectly pouty lips.

 _So full and smooth… I wonder how they would feel against mine…_

"You're a very good teacher."

I'm zapped back into reality. "Thank you." I feel myself blush. "So are you."

"Thank you."

Our shoulders briefly brush against each other.

I feel the same electric shock surge through my body as the first time we were "officially" introduced to each other by Varric nearly a month ago.

I see him tense, and I suspect that he felt it too. But this is the important detail to note:  _He doesn't move away_. I expect him to add more distance between us, but he doesn't.

We arrive at Gamlen's neighbourhood.

"Well, this is it" I gesture towards the house at the end of a short flight of steps to the right.

"I'll walk you to the door." It's not a question. He doesn't give me a choice.

We slowly ascend the steps to Gamlen's front door. He turns to face me.

"I…" His eyes are downcast, and I can see his chest move with every breath he takes.

 _Oh, what I wouldn't give to lay my head on that chest and listen to him breathing_.

"I was wondering if… if I could get your number. You know, to keep in touch on off-days and all."

 _He just asked me for my number. Fenris asked ME for my freaking NUMBER!_

"Of course," I say a little too quickly. "It's 040 543 3453."

He saves it on his phone.  _He has an iPhone. Just like me_.

"Thanks," he says quietly. "I'll text you so you can save my number. Just so you don't think it's some random freak calling you out of the blue." He smirks.

I giggle. "I'll be waiting for it, then."

He stows his phone back in the pocket of his grey jeans and meets my gaze. I see his large, moss-green eyes momentarily flicker to my lips before they quickly meet my eyes again.

"Well, goodnight, Marian."

 _He called me Marian. He never calls me Marian_.

"Goodnight, Fenris. And thanks for the company. It would've been a long and lonely walk otherwise."

"It was nothing short of a pleasure," he says, his deep voice low and gentle.

His eyes roam over my face, his pupils dilated in the dark.

Again, I can almost see the wheels in his head moving. The expression on his face is… conflicted.

He lifts his right arm, slowly and hesitantly reaching his hand towards my cheek.

I feel the heat radiating from his palm, which is barely inches away from my face… I close my eyes, anticipating his touch…

But it never comes.

I open my eyes and see him descending the steps into the street.

He turns and gives me one last smile before turning around a corner.

 _Well. At least I won't have to murder Isabela_.


	7. Chapter 7

Around five minutes after I enter the house, I feel my phone buzz in my hand (yes, I admit that it is ready in my hand) and quickly bolt to the bathroom (Bethany and Mother are in the bedroom). I sit on the closed lid on the toilet seat and, my heart absolutely hammering against my chest, I slide my (shaking) finger across the screen to unlock my phone.

My heart jolts when I see the text message notification in the middle of the screen:

 **Text message received from 047 744 163:**

 _**From the random freak that walked you home tonight** _ **.**

I laugh. Like, really loud in a small bathroom, so you can only imagine how the sound was magnified.

"I think Marian's finally lost it," I hear Carver say from the living room, where he and Gamlen are busy watching a soccer match between Kirkwall United and Starkhaven FC (I'm a soccer fan too, so I know these things).

I chuckle and stare at the text message for Maker knows how long.

"Marian! What on earth are you doing in there? Get out, I'm about to burst!" Bethany's banging on the bathroom door.

"Just a second!" I yell out. I quickly save his number and stuff the phone into my pocket.

"When did you come back?" Bethany asks when I open the door.

"Just now."

She eyes me suspiciously, but I guess she really needs to use the bathroom, so she drops it at that and bolts the door behind her.

I make my way to the bedroom.

"Hey, Mother." She's busy reading a gossip magazine on a mattress on the floor. I stoop down and kiss her cheek.

"Hello, sweetheart," she smiles warmly up at me. "Had a good class?"

"Had an excellent class," I grin, unable to control the intense happiness consuming me right now.

"That's good to hear," she smiles as she strokes my hair.

I sit on the wooden floor beside her and cross my legs.

"What did you do today?"

"Nothing much," she says as she continues to flip through the magazine. "Looked at a few houses here and in Hightown, bought some groceries, the usual."

"Find anything good?"

"Every house or apartment I found was either too small or too expensive." She sighs. "I don't know how much longer I can take being cooped up in this hovel. I still can't believe Gamlen gambled away the estate."

The sadness in her eyes sparks something in me. Resolve.

"Don't worry, Mother," I say softly. I duck down and cup her face in my hands. "I'll buy us back the estate. I promise."

She smiles at me, her blue eyes crinkling. "I know that look. Your father used to have that exact twinkle in his eyes when he was determined to do something. He never failed, and I know you won't too."

"I won't ever fail you." I kiss her forehead. "I love you, Mother."

"And I love you, baby."

"What is this,  _The Young And The Restless_?"

I look up and see Carver standing by the door, his arms crossed and his face disgusted.

Have I mentioned how much I love my dear brother?

I laugh and chuck a shoe at him. He dodges it (barely) and scowls at me.

"Hey!" he says angrily. "I just came in here to tell Mother that the popcorn is burning on the stove."

"The popcorn!" Mother quickly scrambles up to her feet. "I completely forgot all about it!"

"The smell's pretty hard to miss, actually," Bethany's voice says from the hall. She appears at Carver's side.

For twins, they really are  _nothing_  alike.

"Gamlen couldn't figure out how to turn off the stove," Carver says.

"Oh, that man! You can't trust him to do anything right!" She quickly hurries off into the kitchen.

"Couldn't you do something about it, Carve?"

He looks at me incredulously. "What, you think _I_  can work a stove?"

I sigh and roll my eyes. "My apologies, Your Highness. My bad."

Bethany chuckles and heads off to the kitchen to help Mother. I can hear Mother scolding Gamlen and telling him how hopeless he is. Carver smirks at me.

 _I really love this crazy family of mine_.

* * *

"Carver! What in Thedas are you doing in there? Come on, we're late!"

I'm banging on the bathroom door.

"Coming!" he yells. He opens the door with a thoroughly disgruntled expression.

 _When does he_ **not** _have a thoroughly disgruntled expression?_

"We were supposed to pick up the car twenty minutes ago!" I scold him. "Nat's already done me a favour by taking it on a Sunday! And Varric's waiting!"

"Well then, stop your yelling and let's go!"

I take my keys and open the front door. "Bethany, you sure you're alright staying here alone?" I ask for what must be the hundredth time. Mother and Gamlen are both out visiting some old family friends in Hightown.

"Yes! I've got a lot of studying to catch up on, I'll be fine!"

"Alright. I'm locking the front door. Whatever you do, don't let anyone come in unless they're Mother and Gamlen, do you hear me?"

"I hear you, boss!"

I roll my eyes. What's with everyone calling me their boss? I'm not bossy!

"C'mon," I look at Carver. He follows me out into the bright afternoon.

"How far is this place?"

"Right by the Alienage. You've seen it before, Carv.  _Nat's Mechanics_."

"Oh, that place. Is he charging you?"

"Nope."

"He'd better not. We can't afford to spend any more money on that precious car of yours."

"I know," I say through gritted teeth. Carver's extremely jealous of the fact that I can drive and he can't. Not my fault he's a little eighteen year old.

 _Overgrown baby_.

We pick up my repainted car and quickly drive off to the Hanged Man. I got a text message sometime in the morning, with me excitedly scrambling to read it like an idiot, thinking it was from Fenris, only to see that it was from Varric, who apparently needs "all the help I (he) can get" with emptying out the old storage rooms in the tavern. Carver, in a very out-of-character way, volunteered to help. I had to make sure that it was alright for him to enter the tavern, seeing as he's under the age of twenty one, and Varric assured me that it was alright.

I sing along to  _Rolling in the Deep_.

"How do you listen to such crap?" Carver snaps as he sulks in the passenger seat.

"Hey! Adele is not crap!"

"Yes she is. She's crap that needs to go on a diet," he grumbles.

"You're really mean, do you know that? Adele is a very talented, very beautiful-"

"She's fat. And that's that."

I sigh in resignation.  _He is impossible_.

As we drive into a parking space, I see Varric having a heated discussion with a redheaded policewoman.

 _Wait… I know her…_

I park my car and make my way towards them, Carver trailing behind.

"Varric,  _no_ ," the redhead says.

 _I do know her! It's Captain Aveline!_

"But you're the Captain!" Varric pleads. "It'll be easy!"

"I am not petitioning the Viscount to help you steal full ownership of the Hanged Man. You're already part-owner. Isn't that enough?"

"Steal?" he scoffs. "Madame, you wound me!"

The Captain frowns. "I'm about to."

"That good-for-nothing Oghren is only part-owner by name! The drunken sod hasn't got a clue as to how to walk in a straight line, let alone operate this place!"

"Your problem," Aveline shrugs. "Solve it." She looks up when she sees Carver and I approaching. Varric turns around too.

"Hawke!" he says. "You're here! Great! Isabela's in dire need of help. She's in the storage room behind the main bar."

"Wait," Aveline says. "I know you."

"Graffiti girl," I grin, pointing at my parked car. "Remember?"

"Yes!" Her green eyes glance at my car. "I see it's back to normal."

"It wasn't easy, but yeah."

She smiles at me. "Good to know." She looks at Varric and nods. "Varric."

"Captain," he says, a little contempt dripping into his tone. He watches Captain Aveline as she nods at me and walks off. He releases a very audible sigh.

"What was that about?" I ask.

"Just… some minor business issues. I don't want to bore you with the details. Gist of it is that Oghren, the guy I own this dump with, is a lazy, sodding drunk and I want him out of the picture."

"Ah, I see." I pat him on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll figure something out, Varric. You always do." I glance at Carver, who is leaning against the door, arms folded and looking considerably grumpy.

"We'd better get started," I say. Carver holds open the door. "You coming?" I ask Varric, who exhibits no sign of following us in.

"You go ahead. I need some air."

He's in a bad mood. This Oghren character must really bother him.

"Okay. Cheer up, my loveable dwarf." I smile warmly at him before following Carver inside.

We head straight into the storage room behind the bar. Inside, I see Isabela and Corff the bartender, shuffling boxes around the room.

"Hey, Izzy, Corff."

Corff looks up and smiles before digging through the contents of a box. Isabela turns around and grins when she sees me. "Marian! Finally! Corff and I have been dying here!" Her eyes slide over to Carver. "Is that your baby brother?"

I stifle a laugh when I see the look on Carver's face at being called "baby".

"Yep, this is my  _baby_  brother, Carver," I say, clapping him on the back.  _The look on his face is priceless!_

"Well, nice to meet you, little Hawke!"

Carver stiffly nods and gets right to helping Corff with carrying boxes out of the room.

"Where's Merrill?" I ask, taking the heavy box she's holding and placing it near the room's exit.

"Ah, that girl," Isabela sighs, shaking her head. "She cut her hand. Like, really cut it. Had to take her to the ER myself."

"What in Thedas did she do this time?"

"Broke a mirror."

"Ah. Only Merrill." I shake my head. "I mean, I don't even know her that well and she's already cemented in my mind as a Calamity Jane."

Isabela chuckles. "The worst part is having to run the bar upstairs alone. Varric's given her two weeks off. Not that she doesn't need it, the poor thing." Her face instantly brightens at a thought. "The doctor who stitched her up was so hot, though! You know how I have a weak spot for blondes. Like that  _Zevran_. Mmm…"

"How is Zevran? I haven't seen him since he busted his back and stopped helping me out with my karate classes. It's been months."

"He's still suffering," she says, emptying out an old set of wine glasses from a box. "Though, not enough to stop him from having some fun," she adds with a wink and an incredibly seductive edge to her voice.

"You two still at it, then?" Isabela was the one who had introduced Zevran to me when I had been looking for a training assistant last year.

"Never stopped," she grins naughtily. "Speaking of which… How's that incredibly handsome creature that you brought with you on Saturday?  _Fenris_."

Okay, I really, really don't like the way her voice sounds when she says his name. It's like she's freaking whispering it in his ear while making love.

 _Urgh. Don't think about that, Hawke_.

I smile and avert my gaze, pretending to check the contents of one of the boxes stacked by the door.

"He's fine, I guess."

"Oh, he's  _more_  than just  _fine_ , kitten."

Oh, I  _know_ , Isabela.

"He walked me home last night. After class."

Her jaw drops open and her eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

"No way! No fucking way!"

"Oh, yes way," I grin, moving aside as Carver and Corff carry more boxes outside.

She grabs my shoulders and shakes me lightly.

"You have  _got_  to tell me everything, kitten! Every single thing! Did he ask you out? Did you kiss? Did you get his number?" She gasps. "Did you  _do_  him? Maker, I can't even imagine how HOT he'd look without that tight black turtleneck he was wearing that night!"

I laugh at her excitement. "Relax, Izzy, I didn't 'do' him. No one did anybody, as far as I'm concerned. But he did ask for my number."

She squeals and jumps up and down, clapping her hands. "Oh, kitten! I'm so happy for you! I can't believe this! You are  _so_  lucky!"

I grin.

 _Yeah. Maybe I am lucky_.

* * *

"Another round for my buddies here, Corff!"

It's nightfall, and after spending nearly three hours clearing out the storage rooms, Varric, Isabela, Carver and I are all sitting around the huge marble table in Varric's suite, drinking and joking. Carver is grudgingly sipping on a Red Bull after I flat out refused to let him drink any alcohol (that's my big sister mode kicking in), and I'm sipping on my usual Cranberry juice.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Butterflies suddenly flood my insides.

I pull out my phone and look at the caller ID.  _Not him_.

"It's Mother." I stand up and place a finger on my other ear to block out the noise. "Hey, Mother? You guys home yet?"

"No sweetheart, I was about to ask you the same thing. We're probably staying the night here at the Arenbergs'; we're all a bit too tipsy to drive. Are you and Carver still at the Hanged Man?"

"Yeah, we are. We're just having a few drinks before going back."

"Sweetie, don't let your brother have any-"

"I know, Mother. Don't worry. He's drinking some Red Bull."

"That's my girl," I can hear the smile in her voice. "Did you check up on Bethany?"

"Yeah, just called her around an hour ago. She's still studying."

"Alright. Don't be too late, sweetheart. I don't want your sister all alone at night."

"We'll leave soon, Mother. "

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, dear. Drive safely and lock the door and all the windows when you get home!"

"I will. Have fun!"

I hang up and return to my seat. After half an hour, I get up and call it a night.

"What? But the fun's just beginning, Marian!" Isabela says, drunkenly tugging at my t-shirt to force me back down in my seat.

"Bethany's home alone, Izzy, we have to get back. We'll do this some other time, 'kay?"

"Oh, alright," she says sloppily. "Bye, Hawke! And say hi to Fenris for me when you see him!"

I grin. "Will do. C'mon, Carver." We wish everyone a goodnight and leave.

In the car, Carver asks a few questions about Isabela. As subtle as he's trying to be, it's just too easy to see right through him.

"She's not your type, Carve," I laugh.

"And who's to say what my type is?" He sounds offended.

"I don't think she'd be interested, little bro."

"It's that Zevran guy, isn't it? That tanned, good-for-nothing Antivan dude who used to help you out at the gym?"

"Well… yeah."

"Fine. Whatever. She's too old for me anyway."

I laugh again.

When we arrive home, I notice that there's something off.

"All the lights are off." Carver notices it too. "Do you think she's out?"

"Where would she go?" I ask. "She doesn't really know anyone. Maybe she's asleep?"

"Maybe."

We both quickly get out of the car and climb the steps to the front door. When I unlock it and the two of us step inside, we freeze.

The place is plunged in darkness. Not a single light is switched on, not even a bedside lamp.

What really disturbs me is the utter silence engulfing the place.

"Bethany?" I call out.

Nothing.

"Wonka?" Carver calls out. "Bethy?"

I blindly move my hand across the wall by the side of the door and feel around for the light switch. I flick it on.

I scream.


	8. Chapter 8

Blood.

Blood splattered on the walls, blood pooled on the floor. Blood everywhere.

"Bethany!" I scream. She's sprawled on the floor, her left leg bent in an unnatural angle.  _Broken_.

I stagger towards her. She is all I see in the room. Everything else blacks out.

My knees tremble as I see her eyes. Staring. Lifeless.

"No…" I fall to my knees, my entire body trembling. "No!"

Her throat is slashed. She's literally drowning in her own blood.

I hear someone scream; a loud, ear-splitting, blood-curdling scream. It takes me a while to realise the sound is emanating from me.

I feel a weight fall to the floor beside me, heaving. Sobbing.

 _Carver_.

Seeing my little brother cry like that snaps some semblance of sense back into me. I pull out my phone and dial the police with trembling, bloody fingers.

"The Kirkwall Guard. What's your emergency?" It's Captain Aveline.

I can barely speak.

"My… my sister's been mur…murdered! Help us, please! Her throat! Her throat!" I drop the phone without hanging up, my violently shaking hand no longer able to hold it. I pull my baby sister's lifeless, pale body into my arms.

"Bethany!" I sob uncontrollably. " _Bethany_!"

* * *

"Ashes we were, and ashes we become. Maker, give this young woman a place at your side. Let us take comfort in the peace she has found in eternity."

The priest finishes his prayers, and the coffin is lowered into the ground. I feel empty. Like a shell. I'm hollow, a mere shadow of a human being.

Mother is shaking next to me, barely able to contain herself. I see tears welling down her grief-stricken face. I wrap my arm around her and pull her close. Carver is on my other side, staring at the grave with an almost blank look on his face.

He's hollow too.

Uncle Gamlen's lower lip is trembling, his eyes bloodshot. Isabela's eyes are filled to the brim with tears, even though she never really knew Bethany. Merrill is beside her, sobbing into her shoulder. Varric is staring at his feet, his face unshaven and pale. A group of Bethany's college friends are crying beside him.

Everyone is grieving the death of Bethany Malcolm Hawke.

"I will never forget you, Bethany," Mother whispers. I tighten my grip on her and kiss her head.

After the service, everyone goes inside for some refreshments.

Isabela and Merrill immediately rush over to me.

"Oh, kitten," Isabela says, her voice raw with emotion. She wraps me in a tight hug and kisses my cheek.

I just stand there, limp, letting her hold me.

"Hawke, I…" It's Merrill. "I'm so sorry. Bethany was such as wonderful person. She used to help me shop at the Lowtown Bazaar when I first arrived here. She… I…" her voice breaks. "I will truly miss her."

I merely nod. I see Carver standing in the far corner of the room, staring at the floor. I excuse myself from the girls and walk over to him. He looks up when I arrive.

His lips are pursed in a thin line and his eyes are swimming with tears. My baby brother has lost his twin.

I pull him into a tight hug. He hugs me back immediately, not letting go of me for the longest time.

"I will never let anyone or anything harm you, sister," he whispers. "Never."

"I know," I whisper back, patting him. "I know."

He breaks the embrace and places his hands on my shoulders.

"I love you, sister. Even though I don't always show it. I always have and I always will."

My eyes well up with fresh tears.

"I love you too, Carver. Always."

He nods once and lets me go, walking over to where Mother is standing and being comforted by Uncle Gamlen and a few others.

I step out for some fresh air. Varric is there, puffing a cigarette, staring out into the cemetery, his eyes lost in thought. He glances up when he sees me.

"Hawke, I… Nothing I say can do anything to alleviate the pain, but know that Sunshine always had a special place in my heart. She will never be forgotten."

"Thanks, Varric." I smile weakly. The muscles in my face hurt from the effort.

We both just stand there, staring at Bethany's burial site.

I see a figure in the distance. Next to a tree. His white hair is apparent even from a distance. He's dressed entirely in black.

Varric smiles. "Go on."

I nod and slowly make my way up the sloping grass to where he's standing.

"You made it." My voice is very hoarse from the excessive crying I've been doing for the past three days.

"Of course I did," Fenris says gently. He studies my face, a look of sadness and concern evident on his own. "I…I would not wish your sister's end on anyone. As little as this may mean to you, please accept my condolences."

"That means a lot to me, Fenris." It's easier to smile now that he's here. "Thank you."

He smiles back, the breeze blowing his soft, white hair away from his brilliant eyes.

"Do you want to go back in?" he asks.

"No. Let's stay out here for a while. I… I need some air."

"Okay."

We stand silently for a while, the breeze whipping our coats behind us.

"Do you have any family?" I ask. For some reason, I feel as though there are no more barriers between us, not at this moment.

"I… don't know." He pauses. "I've been in a foster family for as long as I can remember."

"Oh. And… you know nothing of your real family?"

"Nothing."

"I'm… sorry. That must be difficult."

He remains silent.

"Thank you for asking me to come today. I never knew Bethany, but I am sure she was a wonderful person. Just like her sister," he adds with a smile, his eyes meeting mine.

Somehow, in the midst of all this grief and tragedy, I feel my heart jolt.

"Thank you for coming. I…" I look down at my feet. "I was really hoping that you would."

I feel his eyes on me. I finally look up and meet his gaze.

His fingers brush mine tentatively before he takes my hand in his. He squeezes it gently but quickly lets it go.

We both stare at Bethany's tombstone.

 _**Bethany Malcolm Hawke** _

_**9:13- 9:31Dragon** _

_**Twin, sister, daughter and angel** _

_**May you find peace by the Maker's side** _

_I love you, Bethany_.

* * *

A month after his stitches were added, we finally rid Wonka of the "Elizabethan collar" that stopped him from chewing on them. He was wounded on the night of Bethany's murder while attempting to protect her from her attacker.

The police are yet to find a lead on who could have done it. No footprints were left in the house, and the DNA found in the scene solely belonged to Bethany. Captain Aveline personally promised us that she will do everything in her power to find the culprits and put them to justice.

What we do know, however, is that it was a burglary. Since we don't really own much, nothing particularly valuable was stolen. The television, a lamp and a  _Memento of Legacy_  statue were stolen, but nothing else. The police suspect a notorious group known as the Coterie.

According to the evidence gathered by the police, the Coterie's main aim was to steal, not to kill. Bethany's death was incidental. The theory is that the burglars must have been keeping an eye on the neighbourhood that day, seen Mother, Gamlen, Carver and I leave in the afternoon, and had consequently assumed that there was no one in the unit. They then waited till nightfall to break in, and upon seeing Bethany studying in the living room, they hastily slashed her throat to stop her from calling for help.

Out of an act of greed, a young and innocent life was so cruelly taken away. There are nights when I see Bethany in my sleep, screaming, pleading with the faceless criminals to spare her, to take anything they want. To let her live. It always ends the same: the criminals laugh mercilessly and slash her throat without a moment's deliberation. I always wake up screaming her name, my face tear-stricken.

It is only in times of great difficulty when you realise that life really does just go on. Sure, the pain is still there. It may fade with time, but we will always carry it with us, no matter where or how far we go. The wound may heal, but the scar remains forever.

Soon, we slowly started getting back into our old routines; Mother, who is now much more adamant about moving out of Gamlen's house due to its association with Bethany's death, is back to home-searching. Carver is back in college, and I'm back at the gym, teaching my classes three days a week with Fenris, who had very helpfully taken over the classes during my one month hiatus.

That mysterious, tattooed man is the only bright light in my shadow of a life right now. Ever since the funeral, the barrier he so carefully erects between us has eased up, even if only a little. Or maybe the fact that we have now known each other for two months makes him feel more comfortable around me. Whatever the reason, I'm just glad that he's there.

It's a Saturday night, and I'm lying on a couch in the living room, popping Maltesers and popcorn into my mouth while reading a battered old copy of  _Jane Eyre_. Mother and Gamlen are in the balcony, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table beside me.

 **Text message from Fenris:**

 **Drinks (or Cranberry juice) at the Hanged Man?**

I smile and quickly send him a reply.

 **I'd love to. When do I pick you up?**

His reply is almost instantaneous.

 **You don't need to. I'll walk**.

I sigh.

Of course he'll walk.

 **You sure?**

 **Positive**.

 **Kay. See you in an hour?**

 **See you then.**

I suddenly feel as though an immense weight has been lifted off me. Being with him is exactly what I need right now.

I hurry to the bedroom to change and shoo Carver out, who's sprawled on the bed, busy playing on a second-hand PSP.

"Where're you going?" he asks as he walks out of the room. He's been considerably nicer to me since… well… since it happened.

"Hanged Man. I'm meeting up with Fenris."

"Oh, that white-haired boyfriend of yours?"

Okay. Maybe not  _considerably_  nicer.

"He's not my boyfriend, Carve, and yes, him."

He rolls his eyes and heads off to the living room.

I open my closet and stare at it for a while.

I've been wearing black from head to toe this past month. I can't ever see myself wear anything else, actually. So that's what I end up putting on: a sleeveless black top and black skinnies.

I check myself in the mirror.

I've lost a bit of weight since the incident. I take a belt and put it around the waist of my jeans. My eyes are just… permanently sad, I guess. But that's out of my hands.

I don't usually wear any makeup, but I am quite partial to my cocoa bronze lipstick, so I put that on. I slip into my black Converse and head to the front door.

"Mother, I'm going out!" I yell in the direction of the balcony.

"She can't hear you," Carver says from his place on the couch. "I'll tell her, don't worry about it."

"Thanks, Carver." I grab my keys off the hook and open the door. "I'll see you later."

"Later."

I glance at the time on the dashboard when I start my car.

 _8:30 pm_. I'm nearly forty five minutes early. I drive on anyway, eager to get of the apartment and be somewhere with people.

I miraculously find a parking spot right at the tavern's door and head towards the entrance.

As usual, the place is swamped with drunken patrons.

Desperate to avoid being groped or vomited on, I quickly head towards the stairs leading to the upper floor. Once on the landing, I hear loud laughter. I peek into Varric's suite.

I see Varric's poker face behind a set of cards in his hands. Seated opposite him is another man, with blonde hair messily tied into a loose pony tail, loose locks falling around his neck, his back turned to me.

Varric looks up from his cards.

"Hawke!" he says, a wide grin spreading across his face. "What a surprise! I didn't expect to see you here tonight!"

He's decked in black too.

I supress the urge to run over and hug him.

Before I have a chance to respond, the other blonde man turns around.

"Marian?"

"Anders!"

"Hey!" he stands up and walks towards me, a wide smile on his cheerful face. "Long time no see! How've you been?"

"I…" I'm not exactly in the proper state of mind to respond to that question. What would I say? I'm fine? Good? Great? Well? Or would I say that, considering my sister was brutally murdered a little over a month ago, it's a miracle I'm able to function at all?

"You two know each other?" Varric quickly steps into the rescue.

"Yeah! Well, we met in the Underground. Marian was lost and asked me for directions," Anders responds. He turns back to me. "I never knew you know Varric!"

"Yeah, I never knew you know Varric either."

"You two should know by now that I know everyone worth knowing in Kirkwall," Varric smirks.

"Hah!" Anders laughs. "Funny how things work out, hey?" He's standing close to me. Maybe a bit  _too_  close.

"Yeah," I smile. I look at Varric. "Listen, I didn't mean to interrupt your game or anything, I was just on my way to the lounge to see Isabela for a while before Fenris gets here."

"Ah, you're meeting Fenris!" Varric smiles knowingly. "Good to see you two are bonding outside of business hours." He winks. "When does he get here?"

"In half an hour or so. He's walking all the way from Hightown."

"Why in Thedas would anyone voluntarily do  _that_?" Anders asks incredulously.

My expression hardens somewhat.

"He's very fond of walking," I say defensively.

"Oh, that he is," Varric chuckles.

"Huh. Must be one heck of a fit guy," Anders says.

 _Oh, you have_ **no** _idea_.

As if on cue, my phone rings in my pocket.

"Hey."

"I'll be there in five minutes. Are you there yet?"

 _Ah, that voice_. Even after two months of hearing it on a regular basis, it still sends shivers down my spine.

"I am," I smile. "You'll find me at the upstairs lounge-"

"Oh, no!" Varric interjects. "He'll find you here in my suite! There's no way you two are not having drinks with us first!"

I roll my eyes. "Fine. You'll find me in Varric's suite."

"No problem. See you soon."

"See you!"

I'm still smiling as I stow the phone back in my pocket.

 _Well. This should be interesting_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that a month isn't really enough time to be able to move on from a sibling's death, but since the Hawkes move on pretty quickly in the actual game, I thought I'd stick to that vibe and not dwell too much on the mourning aspect.


	9. Chapter 9

"One Agreggio Pavali?"

"Here," Fenris says from his place beside me on the table. He is, once again, dressed in a black, full-sleeved turtleneck.

Isabela sets the glass down in front of him and winks at me when she catches my eye.

"One vodka and coke?"

"Right here," Anders says. He's sitting right opposite me, and I don't necessarily like the way he's being eyeing me for the past fifteen minutes.

"Here you go." I notice his eyes flicker to Isabela's very visible bosom as she sets his glass down before him. "One sweet, innocent, virginal and oh-so-boring Cranberry juice?" she says with an exaggerated eye roll.

"Here," I chuckle. I see Fenris smirk out of the corner of my eye.

"Say…" Anders looks at Isabela. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

Isabela focuses on his face and narrows her eyes. "Hmmm… you do seem familiar…" she says. "You're Fereldan, right?" She sets Varric's ale down on the table. "Ever spent time at the Pearl?" I see a smirk forming on her gorgeous tanned face.

Ah, the Pearl. I've never set foot in a brothel in my life, but the last thing I'd be surprised at is finding out that Isabela would frequent such a place.

"That's it!" Anders says, familiarity dawning on his kind face. "You used to really like that girl with the griffin tattoos, right? What was her name?"

"The Lay Warden?" Isabela smirks.

"That's right! I think you were there the night I-"

"Oh! Were you the runaway med school guy who could do that thing with his fingers? That was  _nice_ …" she purrs at him. I see his face visibly go red.

"I don't think I need to know this about either of you," Varric says.

Isabela laughs while Anders grins shyly. I glance at Fenris, who has been awfully quiet since his arrival, and roll my eyes at him. He smirks.

"Well, I'd better get back to the lounge before Merrill sets the entire place on fire," Isabela sighs. She looks at Anders and smiles seductively. "Maybe we can meet up sometime and… play with your  _fingers_ again, hmm?" She trails her own finger on his hand.

"Uh…" Anders laughs uncomfortably. He quickly glances at me and looks down. "I uhh... don't know about that…"

"Suit yourself," Isabela shrugs. She winks at me one more time and leaves the suite.

"You went to med school?" I ask Anders.

"Yeah… that boarding school I was telling you about… that was it."

"Oh. So… you never finished your studies there?"

"Nope. I was a month away from graduating when I escaped, actually." He sips some of his drink.

"Well, that's a shame," Varric says.

"Not if you knew what the place was like. It was terrible. Like a prison." Anders' usually cheerful expression sours.

"So, what do you do for a living?" I ask, sipping a bit of my own drink.

"I'm a healer," Anders shrugs.

"Huh?"

He laughs. "Sounds better than an unlicensed GP."

I feel Fenris tense next to me.

"You... you practice on patients without being fully qualified?" I ask.

"Qualified," Anders scoffs. "That's such a weighted term. I spent my entire life locked up in that stupid school. If anyone's qualified enough to be a GP, it's me. Besides, I was a month away from graduating, remember?"

"So where do you conduct your practice if you're unlicensed?" I ask, feeling very nosey.  _Poke, poke! Tell me everything about your life, Anders!_

"In my clinic in Darktown," Anders replies. "No one really knows about it other than the Fereldan refugees, and they're all too poor and desperate to care whether I'm 'qualified' or not. I offer my services to them free of charge, which is why I teach guitar on the side for a living, which is also why I'm nearly destitute and crashing in Darktown."

"That's… that's very generous and kind of you, helping the needy like that." I smile at him. He smiles back, turning a bit red. His kind brown eyes gaze at mine for a while, which makes me begin to feel uncomfortable, so I quickly look away and pretend to be very interested in Varric's marble table.

"My ex-foster father is a med school graduate," Fenris says. It's the first time he's joining the conversation. His tone is cold and steely and his body is incredibly tense. His green eyes are fixed on his wine, which remains untouched. "Started out as a GP too, though that was years ago. Now, he's a scientist. One of the best in Tevinter."

He says all this in that same steely tone.

"A scientist?" Anders says. "Well… I guess I can see the connection."

"Of course there's a connection," Fenris snaps at him. I stare at him, seething with anger next to me. "All doctors and surgeons and anyone else who has a medical degree under their belts end up being scientists in Tevinter. They would be ridiculed and shunned if they didn't."

"Tevinter?" Anders asks. "Is that where you're from?"

"Yes," Fenris replies, venom dripping from his voice. Clearly, this topic of med school and scientists doesn't sit well with him.

"I… I've heard of the scientists in Tevinter. They practically rule the place, don't they?" Anders is apparently oblivious to the fact that the topic needs to be changed.  _Now_.

"They do," Fenris replies quietly. I see his hands ball up into fists beneath the table, and I know it's time to step in.

"All this talk of medicine and scientists! We're here to have some fun, not talk about mad scientists and prison-like schools! I'm already depressed, let's not add to it, shall we?" I smile around the table in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

"Depressed?" Anders asks. "What about?"

I quickly glance down at my hands on my lap and regret using that word. Talking about my dead sister isn't exactly what I had in mind for a change of topic, but the thought of her fills me with sudden grief.

I feel a warm hand touch my shoulder. I look up to see Fenris looking at me.

"Hey… you alright?" he whispers.

"Yeah," I sigh. "Yeah, I'm alright." I glance up at Anders, who's watching the two of us closely. "My sister passed away recently, hence the depression," I clarify.

"Oh…" His face looks incredibly sad. "I'm… I'm sorry."

I nod and look back down at my hands. Varric reaches across the table and places his hand on mine.

"Hey," he smiles. "It's alright if you want to talk about it, Hawke."

"No. No, I'm fine, Varric, really. It just… it just gets difficult sometimes, you know?"

"I know," he says gently, his warm touch soothing against my cold hand. He pats it twice and sits back in his seat.

I look at Fenris, who is still intently watching me, his green eyes concerned. He smiles at me, which warms me up instantly. It's hard to believe that, five minutes ago, he was on the brink of exploding with rage. The very fact that he's right there sitting next to me is just surreal, and here I am, wasting such an amazing moment by sinking back into my bout of depression.

I smile at Fenris and look up with a renewed sense of hope.

"So! Who's up for a game of Diamondback?" I grin.

"Hear, hear!" Varric says cheerfully, raising his ale up in the air. We all follow suit and guzzle down our drinks.

I look at Fenris and catch him gazing at me, that warm smile still there on his mesmerising face.

It's amazing what a simple smile from him can do.

* * *

"Had fun tonight?"

It's nearly midnight, and Fenris and I are in my car, driving to Hightown to drop him home. Anders was dead drunk by the time we left, so he's staying over at Varric's for the night.

"I did," I smile as my eyes flit from the rear view mirror to his face.  _How could I not, with you there beside me the entire time?_  "Did you?"

"I did," he replies. We both remain silent for a while. He's staring out the window.

"I really enjoy your company, Hawke."

I nearly drive past a red light.

 _What did he just say?_

My stomach fills with butterflies and my heart starts to race.

"I do too," I reply quietly. I sense his gaze on my face and I start to blush.

"That red…" his voice almost purrs. "It's very becoming on your pale skin."

I look at him briefly before focusing back on the road. "You mean my cheeks?"

"Yes." His voice is  _sinfully_  sexy. "They're like rose buds when you blush."

I gulp. I am struck speechless.  _Is he flirting with me?_

"I really like your skin. It's like caramel."

 _What? Did I just say that? Please tell me I did not just say that_.

He chuckles lightly. "Thank you."

"Thank  _you_." I smile. "Not many people have compared my cheeks to rose buds. People always tend to go with tomatoes instead."

"Not many people have compared my skin to caramel," he laughs.

I laugh with him. I just feel so content right now. Is that wrong, considering my sister is dead?

"As for the tomatoes…" his voice changes and goes back to that shiver-inducing purr. "People don't see you like I do."

For the first time since we got in the car, I take my eyes completely off the road and look at him. He looks back at me, his eyes fired up with intensity.

Not wanting to get into a car accident, I quickly look back at the road.  _Breathe, Hawke. Breathe and keep cool. Breathe and keep_ **cool** _._

Thankfully, we arrive at his neighbourhood soon after that. I say thankfully because I was beginning to lose all ability to think, let alone drive.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and looks down at his tattooed hands.

"Forgive me," he mumbles. "I… I think I had too much wine. I didn't intent to make you uncomfortable."

"No…" I whisper. "You… you didn't make me feel uncomfortable. Not at all."

He looks up at me, his beautiful large eyes literally gazing into my very being.

He shifts in his seat and moves his face closer to me, his hand reaching up to stroke the length of my face.

I tremble under his touch, but I don't look away from his eyes. I can't even if I want to. It's like they've cast some kind of spell on me, compelling me to look at them and only them.

They're so green and-

 _Oh_.

His warm lips touch mine, tentatively, cautiously. They just linger there, hovering slightly over mine, touching and caressing.

Another shiver passes through me. He cups my face in his warm, blistered hands and gently presses his lips against mine.

I gasp involuntarily. The sound must have sparked something in him, because his kiss instantly deepens, the force of his lips against mine increasing.

 _Maker's breath, I can't believe this is happening to me. We crashed. We crashed and died and went to heaven_.

In an attempt to convince myself of the reality of my incredible situation, I snake my fingers through his hair.  _So soft and so real_. It's his turn to tremble now. A low and deep moan escapes his throat, and every single inch of my skin is on fire.

 _I'm going to pass out_.

I taste wine on his warm lips. I briefly and bizarrely wonder whether he can taste cranberry juice on mine.

 _His lips are even softer than I imagined them to be_.

After what seems like eons, he slows down the kiss, breaking our lips apart for a second before coming back for several light, brief kisses. He then stops and rests his forehead against mine, his breathing shallow and quick. His eyes are still closed and my face is still cupped in his hands.

He opens his eyes.

 _Maker, even in the dark they have this majestic glow to them._

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he finally says in that deep, low voice.

"So why didn't you?"  _What? No, Hawke! Too forward, too forward!_

His lips form into that mesmerising half-smile of his. "You say what's on your mind, I'll give you that. And, to answer your question...I wasn't sure you wanted me to."

 _Really? Really, Fenris? My painful obviousness wasn't obvious enough for you?_

"What made you sure tonight?"

"I wasn't. I just had to."

I don't say anything. What can you say to something like  _that_?

He gently pulls away and straightens up in his seat. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is dishevelled, courtesy of my brilliant hands.

 _Maker, who or_ **what** _is this creature?_

"I… should go," he says quietly.

 _No… please don't. Please_.

"Okay," I whisper.

He briefly looks at me before quickly looking away.

"Goodnight." He opens the passenger door and steps out.

"Goodnight."  _Seriously, why am I whispering? Where is my voice?_

He walks towards a grand but worn-out looking mansion and disappears through the main door.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

 **Text message from Izzy:**

 **Don't forget to use a condom ;)**

I sigh. Something tells me I won't have to worry about  _that_  for quite a while.


	10. Chapter 10

We need money. Like,  _really_ need it. It's been over a year, and we're still staying at Gamlen's place, if you call it a place. Mother is at her wit's end, and quite frankly, I am too.

What I need is a proper job. As great as my job at the gym is, it just doesn't pay enough. Sure, I earn enough to get by, but only just, and I have an entire family to support. I'm not thinking of quitting, Maker no! I'm way too addicted to the Man with the White Tattoos to ever consider quitting. I just need to find another source of income. A much greater source. And where do you go when you need a much greater source of income?

You go to Varric, of course.

Which is why I now find myself in Varric's over-the-top, ultra-expensive, fit-for-a-movies star suite on Monday morning.

"Your text message got me all excited, Varric. What's up?" My feet are crossed on the marble table as I munch on some incredibly sweet strawberries.

"So, know how you were all adamant about earning some real, hard money ever since you came here, and I told you I'd help you out whenever the opportunity arose?"

"Yes…"

"Well, the opportunity has finally arisen, my friend! Turns out that my brother Bartrand is on the lookout for a partner to run his bakery with."

"You mean  _Bartrand's Bakery_  in Hightown?"

"That's the one!" he pops a strawberry into his mouth. "Apparently, he needs a partner to invest in the business. Been complaining that he doesn't have the time or resources to do it himself anymore. Business getting expensive and what not."

"How much does he need?"

"5000 sovereigns."

I nearly choke on a strawberry.

"Five- five thousand! Maker's breath, Varric! If I had that kind of money, I wouldn't be looking for another job now, would I?"

"Hawke, Hawke," he shakes his head and leans forward on the table. "You need to think big, my friend. I've got an acquaintance who is willing to pay you thrice the amount you make at the gym per month in return for training her men."

"Oh? And who is this?"

"Her name is Athenril. She's… a smuggler of sorts. Doesn't dabble in lives, though, so no slavery or killings or whatnot. She just deals in things the dwarven Carta are interested in: expensive fabrics, aged wines, casks of caviar, that sort of stuff."

"And she needs me because…?"

"Because her men are being run over by the Coterie. They're a merciless band that would stop at nothing to eliminate any competition in Kirkwall. So, she just wants her men versed in the martial arts to ensure 'business efficiency'. Namely, to be able to 'physically' handle the Coterie should the need arise."

"The Coterie?"  _That rings bells_. "The group that Captain Aveline suspects murdered Bethany?"

"The very one. So, apart from a profit motive, you have a personal incentive to make sure the Coterie get their asses kicked. Maybe even by you personally."

My heart suddenly picks up pace. This is my chance. My chance for revenge. My chance to cut those low-lives' throats just as they cut Bethany's.

I look up at Varric with fiery resolve in my eyes.

"When do I start?"

* * *

"This chicken tastes so good!" I'm stuffing my face at the little round table in the kitchen with the rest of my family. "Are you sure you cooked this, Gamlen?"

"What do you think?" Carver asks with a smirk. Gamlen rubs his neck and suddenly becomes  _very_  interested in the food on his plate, his gaze averting everyone else's.

I pause and pretend to deliberate.

"Nahhh, way too good" I say, laughing and reaching for another drumstick. I don't usually eat dinner, especially not a heavy one, but after being a strict vegan for nearly a year, the taste of chicken kind of makes me go a little crazy. Okay… maybe more than just a little. Almost as crazy as Fenris' voice makes me go, except chicken doesn't make my heart race and my cheeks flush. Hmmm… yeah, I think the comparison to Fenris' voice is just wrong. But you get the gist: I  _really_  like chicken.

"Don't swallow so quickly, Marian!" Mother scolds me from across the table. "You'll get stomach cramps!"

"After losing her mind and going vegan for an entire year, what else would you expect her to do?" Carver says. For once, I cannot disagree with him.

In the midst of my face-stuffing, I hear my phone ring in the bedroom. I wipe my hands off on a handkerchief and quickly rush to see who it is.

My heart jolts.

 _Fenris_.

I hesitate for a brief moment before answering it. This is the second time he has ever called me. He usually texts, which is easier, since I seem to have a difficulty with answering his phone calls. I get way more nervous than I should. I mean, it's just a freaking phone call, for Andraste's sake!

"Hello?" Again, my calm, steady voice successfully veils the jitters I feel inside.

"Hawke?" As always, his voice sends shivers down my spine.

"Hi, Fenris!"

"Hi. I… I hope this isn't a bad time…"

He sounds anxious.

"Not at all." I sit on the bed. "What's up?"

"I… I was wondering whether you could… maybe meet me somewhere in Hightown? I really need to see you."

 _My heart falls out of my chest_.

"Of course. When do I meet you?"  _I don't know how I do it, but my voice is so damn calm right now!_

"As soon as possible if you can, Hawke."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes max."

He's silent for a while.

"Thank you, Hawke. I… Thank you. Meet me near the Chantry."

"Will do. See you soon."

"See you."

He hangs up.

Okay, am I supposed to be thrilled or worried about this? He has never called to meet up on a night other than on a weekend, and he has never requested meeting up in Hightown. Plus, he just didn't sound right. His voice had a very tense and anxious tone to it, and I don't like that one bit.

I wash my hands and brush my teeth, give Wonka the leftovers on my plate, excuse myself from the rest of the family and head off, almost running, to my car. I start it and drive straight to Hightown.

On the way, I try my best not to think negative thoughts, which is really what I'm best at, this dwelling on the negative business. But his voice keeps replaying in my head, and the obvious anxiety in it really puts me on edge. I've never heard him sound anxious before.

I drive around the corner and park my car right next to the Chantry. My eyes scan the area, looking for him. The streets are pretty much empty apart from a few groups of people huddled in corners and talking. I spot him right next to the Chanter's board.

I pull the keys out of the ignition and step out of the car, quickly striding towards him. It's a public holiday today, so I didn't get to see him at the gym. Come to think of it, the last time I saw him or even spoke to him was two nights ago. When we first… kissed. I am very much aware of that fact as I reach him, leaning against the board in a way so sexy that it should be illegal, and I feel the butterflies flutter around in my stomach.

He looks up at me through a curtain of sleek, white hair and flashes me his signature half-smile, but what worries me is that it doesn't reach his eyes, which are ridden with anxiety.

"Hey," I say. "I came as fast as I could. Is everything alright?"

He looks at my face for a moment, warmth diminishing a bit of the anxiety from his eyes.

"Thank you for coming," he says, his voice soft and full of gratitude. "Yeah… I mean, no- I mean," he sighs. "Can we go somewhere else? Someplace we can sit and talk? Alone?" He adds that final word with a sweeping glance at our surroundings. Almost as though he feels we're being watched.

His hands are buried in the pockets of his black pea coat. His neck is concealed with a black scarf wrapped loosely around it, and he's dressed in his signature black jeans and Oxfords.

 _Classy, elegant, handsome and downright sexy. Maker_ **help** _me_.

"Of course," I say slowly. "Got anywhere specific in mind?"

"I was thinking maybe  _Vincento's_. It's always open till late and it's out of the way."

 _Why would you want a place that's out of the way?_

"Sure.  _Vincento's_  it is."

He pushes himself off the Chanter's board and walks to my side, one eye concealed behind a curtain of white locks.

It's so easy to doubt the reality of his existence. He is seriously the most perfect being I have ever laid eyes on.

We walk to the cosy little Antivan coffee house, side by side, our shoulders lightly bumping into each other. Each little touch sparks a new outburst of butterflies in my insides.

"I… I know this may seem strange to you, Hawke," he says, his eyes focused on our striding feet. "But I promise to explain everything inside."

I nod, rubbing my arms with my hands.  _I should have put on a thicker jacket_.

He looks at me. "Are you cold?"

"A little," I admit.

He very swiftly comes out of his thick pea coat, revealing the grey (and  _very_  fitted) shirt he's wearing underneath, and places it around my shoulders.

"You didn't have to do that. You'll catch a cold."

"I'm warm enough," he smiles, his green eyes twinkling.

I'm momentarily dazzled.

"Thank you," I smile, wrapping his coat tighter around me. It smells of musk and eau de cologne. I breathe in deeply in the most subtle way possible, revelling in the intoxicating aroma.

 _It smells_ **so** _good._ **He** _smells so good_.

We arrive at the dimly-lit and classic-looking coffee house and step inside. Warmth instantly washes over me from the huge lit fireplace.

A young waiter approaches us, taking Fenris' coat from me and hanging it on a coat hanger by the door. "Welcome to Vincento's. Table for two?"

"Yes, please," Fenris says quickly. His eyes sweep the entire place with that same anxious look. "Somewhere… private."

I glance at him with a somewhat puzzled look. The place is practically empty, save the couple that's busy-

 _Ew. Tongue action in public?_

I'm not a PDA kind of person. Not at all. Some things are just better done behind closed doors. In private.

"Of course," the waiter smiles. "This way, messeres." He leads us to a little wooden table behind an elaborate, partially draped Antivan curtain. "The menus are on the table. I'll be back in a few minutes to take your order."

"I already know what I'll be having," Fenris quickly says. "Just a cappuccino, please. No sugar."

"One cappuccino, no sugar," the waiter repeats. He looks very young. I read the name on his name tag. Feynriel.  _Huh. Odd name_. The boy is a little odd-looking himself. Not in a bad way; he's actually quite handsome. Beautiful, even. His face is narrower and longer than the average person. Like Fenris', but not as chiselled. Nothing can compare to Fenris' cheekbones. Not to mention his jaw. And his beautiful Grecian nose. Okay, I should stop now.

I quickly scan the hot drinks section of the elaborately decorated menu.

"I'll have a mocha. Skimmed milk, no sugar, please."

"One skinny mocha, no sugar," Feynriel repeats. "I'll only be a few minutes." He smiles, collects our menus and leaves.

Fenris' eyes follow the boy as he walks away. His eyes stare in that direction for quite a while, and they seem lost in deep thought. I watch him.

The sole source of light is the fireplace and the single candles placed on each table. I see the flames from our candle reflected in his large eyes, dancing in them. He abruptly directs his eyes at mine and catches me staring at him. I immediately blush and look away.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, a hint of a smile forming on his lips. "I imagine you must be very confused right now."

"Only a little."

"Then allow me to explain why I asked you here. You know about my ex-foster father, right?"

"The scientist?"  _Uh oh_. I'm dreading where this is going. The last time his ex-foster father was brought up, things didn't go very smoothly.

"Yes," he replies. I hear no hint of steely rage in his voice. I breathe easy.

"What about him?"

"He's the reason I… left Tevinter." His eyes are dead focused on me, and he barely blinks.

I merely look back, anticipating an explanation. I see the strange white markings on his chin, illuminated in the candlelight. I follow the lines as they go down his chin to his neck, which is completely concealed with the black scarf loosely thrown around it. He always takes a lot of care to hide his neck. Even in our karate classes, he's always wearing a turtleneck underneath his kit. Lucky it's winter. Otherwise, he'd probably sweat himself to death.

"I don't have much time to explain everything in detail tonight, so I'll try to be as brief and as clear as possible. I promise to explain everything properly to you soon. Just…" he pauses as he continues to gaze at me. "Just not now."

I nod. Feynriel approaches our table with our orders. He sets them down in front of us and smiles before he leaves. Fenris fixes his gaze on his foamy cappuccino and begins to talk.

"When I left Tevinter, I didn't just leave for a change of scenery. I… escaped." He glances up at me. My eyes are on him, urging him to continue.

"Ever since he adopted me, Danarius, which is my ex-foster father's name, treated me poorly. Whatever he wanted, I was obligated to do, may that be pouring Agreggio Pavali for his guests or guarding his bedroom door throughout the night.

 _What?_

"So, you were his servant as well as his bodyguard?"

"I was like his slave. I propped up the furniture, when he was so inclined." The venom is already starting to seep into his voice.

"But…" I'm confused. "Why did he need a bodyguard?"

"Being a scientist in Tevinter is a very high profile position. It earns you wealth, a title, and notoriety. Not everyone is fond of the scientists there. In fact, I dare say that everyone despises them. They only allow them to rule and submit to them purely out of fear."

"But, why would they fear them?"

He picks up a teaspoon and uses it to scoop up the foam from his cappuccino. I watch him as he puts it into his mouth, and I feel things that I shouldn't be feeling just by watching someone spoon some foam into their mouth. But then again, Fenris isn't just a 'someone'.

"The power they yield is greater than most. It is a unique power, gained from years of study and research, and when used for the wrong reasons, it can be deadly. Take nuclear bombs, for example. Who, apart from scientists, has the knowledge, skill and ability to create such a deadly weapon? No one. Scientists can end the entire world in a second if they so desired."

I digest what he said. I never thought of scientists as evil or powerful. They always seemed like nerdy, old, wild-haired and socially inept people in white lab coats to me.

I take a sip of my skinny mocha. My eyes start to water.

"Are you alright?" Fenris asks, the hatred in his eyes suddenly replaced with concern.

"Yeah," I gasp, sucking on my tongue. "That mocha is scalding hot! It burnt my tongue."

"Do you need some water?" He starts to make a motion for the waiter.

"No, no, I'm fine," I reply quickly, dabbing at the tears in my eyes. "Carry on."

He studies me briefly before smiling and carrying on.

"Danarius was very fond of… experimenting on me." His eyes are fixed on his cappuccino, his expression hardened.

"What do you mean? Like, he used you as a test subject of some sort?"

"Not in the way you picture it," he says quietly. I can see that he's thinking very hard. Like he's trying his best to arrive at a very important decision on the spot.

He looks up at my face, his eyes once again studying me, almost like an X-ray. And I can see it in his eyes that his decision, whatever it is, has been made.

He reaches for the scarf around his neck and removes it, revealing a feature of his that I have never seen before, yet have always imagined.

His neck.

It's smooth and caramel and… tattooed.

I was right. The strange markings on his chin extend down to his neck, and from what I can now see, they appear to go all the way to his chest as well.

I force myself to look away and focus on his green eyes, which are intently studying me. For a reaction, most likely.

"He… he did those?" I whisper.

Fenris nods.

"What are they? They look like tattoos but… they don't at the same time."

"They're lyrium."

"Excuse me?"

"Lyrium," Fenris repeats. "A chemical Danarius created himself. Ten times more poisonous than mercury and ten times as lethal if ingested."

I allow myself to stare at the markings, but not for too long. I don't want to make him more uncomfortable than he clearly already is.

"So… so he put this lyrium substance in your skin?" This is beginning to sound like a horror movie.

Fenris nods. "I was his experiment. He wanted to learn about the effects that lyrium can have on one's physical abilities. My skills in martial arts were always highly valued by him, so he wanted to 'augment' them, so to speak."

He stares at the markings on his hands for a time before he suddenly looks up again.

"But this isn't why I called you here tonight. I do want to explain everything to you, but as I mentioned earlier, now is not the time."

He hesitates before he speaks again.

"I need your help, Hawke."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend listening to The Only Exception by Paramore when reading the latter half of this chapter (:

  


"What do you need me to do?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I realise that I'm clutching my coffee mug way too tight.

"I…" He lets out a very audible sigh. "This is difficult for me, asking someone for a favour. It's not something I do often."

"We're friends, Fenris. Ask of me anything you want."

He smiles warmly at me. "That is very kind of you, Hawke."

I smell cappuccino on his breath. I have to supress the strongest urge to lean a bit closer and taste it on his lips.

 _Focus, Hawke. Now is not the time for such fantasies_.

His eyes are locked on mine, his gaze intent.

"There's something I have to do, and I need someone I can trust to help me out in case things go wrong."

"What do you intend to do?"

"I…" He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I've received an email from someone who claims to have information that I've been after for a long time. I've arranged to meet him at the Alienage in Lowtown tomorrow evening. The thing is... I don't trust him. It all seems too… convenient."

"How so?"

"The timing of it all. This person contacts me out of the blue, after my escape and he knows exactly what I'm after. Why hasn't he contacted me before? Why now? It's like he knows of my escape, and if he does, then he must have ties to Danarius."

"You're saying this could be a trap?" My heart is thudding fast.

"I wouldn't put it past Danarius to arrange such a scheme. He knows exactly what I want, and my guess is he's using this information as bait."

"But, why would he be after you so adamantly? Can't he find someone else to do all his dirty work?"

Fenris' expression darkens.

"He doesn't want me at all, just the markings on my skin," he says venomously. "He wants his precious investment returned, even if he must rip it from my corpse." He looks like he's about to spit in disgust.

I stare at him in horror.

"I…"  _I'm lost for words_. "I can't believe this…"

He leans across the table, bringing his face closer to mine.

"You're the only one I can trust, Hawke. I need you with me when I go to meet that man tomorrow."

I breathe in his scent from across the table and I feel a little lightheaded.  _Intoxicated_.

"Of course I'll go with you, Fenris," I say.

He stares into my eyes with an incredibly warm smile.

"Thank you, Marian. I knew I could count on you," he says in a very low voice.

The way he says my first name is so different from how everyone else says it. His voice softens around it, a caress, as though it were a precious thing to be treasured.

I smile at him, though I'm feeling very fearful. If this Danarius person is really after his markings… I shudder at the thought.

"Your mocha's getting cold."

I glance down at my full mug before looking at his.

"So is your cappuccino," I remark.

With that darling crooked smile on his face, he picks up his cup and drains its contents in one go.

"Tastes so much better when it's cool," he comments, dabbing at his lips with a napkin.

I briefly fantasise about tracing those full lips with my finger before following suit and downing my mocha in one go.

"Can I drive you home tonight?" I ask. If he really is being hunted, the prospect of him walking alone at night is very disconcerting.

He smiles as he surveys his empty mug.

"I'd like that."

"You're not going to insist on walking this time? I raise my eyebrows at him.

He chuckles. "No, not this time. I could do with a drive."

"Good," I smile. "For a second, I thought you were going to be impossible."

He quietly chuckles some more. "Not tonight," he smiles.

After an animated argument about who pays the bill, an argument which Fenris ended up winning (darn that voice and those eyes of his; they seriously have some magical force emanating from them), we head off to my car and drive to his mansion.

He's very silent throughout the drive, his eyes fixed intently out his side's window.

"Fenris," I finally say. "What information is it that you're after?"

He doesn't respond immediately.

"Information about my family." He turns to look at me. "My real family."

I nod. The way he said the word 'real'… That tugged at my heartstrings, it did.

I park right outside his mansion. My mind immediately flits back to Saturday night. To that kiss. I'm holding my breath, hoping, praying that we are about to share another one.

"Hawke," he says quietly. "I hope I'm not forcing you into this. Please know that you are free to reject my request. You owe me nothing."

"Don't talk like that, Fenris, of course I want to help," I say quickly. "We're friends," I repeat.

"Friends," he smiles. "I like that." Something in his tone makes me think he's never had many of those.

I smile endearingly at him. I hesitantly reach for his shoulder and place my hand on it, half expecting him to move out of the way or shrug it off.

But he doesn't.

He closes his eyes, still smiling.

"I am a very lucky man to have met you, Hawke." His voice is low. Soft. He opens his eyes and meets my gaze. I feel my heart racing in my chest.

He hesitantly raises his hand and caresses my cheek with the back of his fingers. His touch leaves a trail of fire on my skin.

His hand lingers there for a while, before he slowly pulls it away. He reaches for the door handle and opens the passenger door.

I feel my heart sink.

I hate seeing him leave. I always have this intense fear of losing him and never seeing him again. Like he's a beautiful dream, some vivid creation of mine that might disappear at any moment.

"We'll keep in touch tomorrow."

I nod.

He shuts the door and leans his face in through the rolled down window.

"Sleep well, Hawke."

"And you."

He watches me for a moment and turns towards the mansion door. I see him peek at me from the corner of his eye before he disappears inside.

I let out a loud and prolonged sigh.

 _Well, at least I'll get to see him tomorrow_.

* * *

I had a very strange and disturbing dream last night.

I was in my car with Fenris, and we were talking, though I don't recall what about. Whenever I tried to touch him, my hand would go right through him. When I asked him why this was happening, he merely smirked and faded away. I got out of the car and called out his name, only to be answered by a pressing silence.

As embarrassed as I am to admit it, I silently cried into my pillow when I woke up. A grown woman, sobbing like a child over a dream.  _Pathetic_.

Whatever is happening to me... whatever spell that man has cast on me… it's new and uncertain and all-consuming. It overwhelms me like nothing else has. It makes me feel vulnerable.

It scares me.

I get out of bed at the break of dawn, unable to go back to sleep. I quietly dress and head out to the docks on foot.

The scent of the ocean water is familiar and refreshing. I breathe in deeply as the light breeze whips my wispy black bangs away from my face.

I sit on the edge of the pier, my feet dangling in mid-air as I watch the sunrise. The beauty of the sight makes me yearn for Fenris' presence. I want to share this moment with him. He seems like the sort of guy who'd appreciate such beauty.

I take my phone from my pocket and snap a picture of the beautiful scene. I send it to him via MMS with a caption:

 **I thought of you while watching this**.

I don't feel silly or stupid for sending it. I may have felt that way less than twenty four hours ago, but not now. He made it very clear last night that he trusted me more than anyone else in his life right now. That he truly values our friendship. As much as I want this friendship to progress into something more, I'm content with where we're at right now. I'm lucky enough to just have him in my life and be able to call him a friend. If that's all I can get, I'm more than fine with that. It's much more than I could have ever hoped for when we first met two months ago.

My phone vibrates in my hand.

 **Text message from Fenris:**

 **That's stunning. You're at the docks?**

 _He's awake too_.

I quickly send him a reply.

 **Yep.**

A few minutes pass.

 _Huh. Maybe he fell asleep._

Nearly a quarter of an hour passes before my phone vibrates in my hand again.

 **Your hair looks brilliant in that light**.

 _Huh?_

I turn around, my eyes rapidly scanning the deserted pier.

Only, it's not deserted anymore.

 _I can't believe it_.

I seriously cannot believe it. I literally rub my eyes real hard when I see a tall, lean, darkly-clothed figure approaching me at the edge of the pier. When he gets closer, hands in his pockets, white hair dazzling under the early sunlight, I see the smirk on his face, and my jaw drops open.

"What the?" I laugh in disbelief. "How in the world did you get here? Were you already walking here when I texted you?"

He laughs as he stops right beside me, his soft hair falling over his eyes when he tilts his head down to look at me.

"Nope. Got a cab. It's amazing how quick you can get here when the roads are empty."

In an incredibly swift and fluid movement, he drops down next to me and crosses his legs.

I stare at him with an expression of utmost surprise. The last thing I expected was to have him sitting next to me at the pier at 5 am in the morning.

He laughs at the expression on my face.

"You're…" I shake my head in disbelief. "You're really unpredictable, do you know that?"

"So I've been told," he smirks. The light from the rising sun hits his right eye, giving the green in it a striking gold hue, setting it alight. I quickly pull out my phone and aim the camera lens on his eye.

"What're you doing?"

"Just hold still," I demand.

He does as I ask and I snap a picture of his eye.

I look at it and smile as I admire it before showing it to him.

"There are some things in life worth capturing," I murmur.

He stares at the picture for a brief moment before he raises his eyes back to me. I see a smile slowly form on his full lips as he reaches into the pocket in his jeans and pulls out his own identical iPhone. He aims the camera lens at my face.

"Don't move," he says.

I do as he asks without argument. I hear the capture sound emanating from his phone. He looks at the picture for a time, smiling, before he hands me the phone.

As I take his phone from his hand, my fingers brush his lightly. The touch sends an instant shock through my body.

The phone feels warm in my hands. I revel in the feeling, soaking in the warmth, using it as a sure sign of his existence. I look at the picture and stare, dumbfounded.

"Those are… those are  _my_  eyes?" I stare at him in shock.

He laughs. "Do you see anyone else sitting here?"

I look back at the picture. They just look so… amazingly blue and bright and vibrant. I've never seen my eyes look this way before. They are a shocking, electric blue under the sun's rays.

"There are some things in life worth capturing," he says softly.

I look up and see him gazing at me with an incredibly tender expression. I realise then, for the first time ever and with the strongest clarity and certainty, that my life will never be the same again. Whatever this strange, mysterious and rare creature has done to me, it is irreversible.

There's no turning back.

  



	12. Chapter 12

It's funny how things happen when you least expect them to.

I mean, I certainly didn't expect spending last night in Fenris' company.

And I certainly never expected  _this_.

We're strolling along the pier, talking and laughing. Our hands brush against each other regularly and it takes all of my willpower not to weave my fingers into his and hold his blistered hand in mine.

There's something new between us. There's familiarity. There's comfort. He no longer keeps his guard up when he's around me, no longer carefully maintains a certain distance between us, in a physical and emotional sense. He laughs a lot more now too, and that beautiful smile is frequently on his face.

I like this Fenris. Not that I didn't like him before (but I didn't need to tell you that, did I?).

I just…  _really_  like this new, less stoic and more relaxed version of him.

We eat hotdog sandwiches for breakfast from a hotdog stand at the docks and watch the seagulls peck around us.

"What's that?" he asks, pointing at the silhouette of a huge building rising beyond the docks.

"The Gallows," I reply. "Kirkwall's military base."

"Looks… cheerful."

I laugh. "Yeah. It does, doesn't it?"

He smiles faintly as he continues to gaze at the grim structure.

"Listen, Hawke. There's something I have to tell you," he says slowly. His smile is gone.

 _This doesn't sound good_.

"What's up?" I ask nonchalantly.

"It's about Danarius. I...wasn't being completely honest about the scientist thing."

"Oh."

He looks at me apologetically.

"It wasn't intentional," he quickly says. "It was just… We were at the Hanged Man, surrounded by your friends. I didn't feel comfortable. And…" he glances down.  _Is he blushing?_  "I didn't want you to think I was… crazy."

"Why in Thedas would I think that?" I ask in a very confused tone.

"Because…" he takes a deep breath and looks me squarely in the eyes. "Danarius isn't just a scientist. He's… he's an Alchemist."

I'm quiet for like, a good ten seconds.

"An Alchemist?" I echo. "Do alchemists even exist in this day and age?"

"They do in Tevinter," he replies darkly.

"But… don't alchemists dabble in dark arts and spiritual… things? Turning metal into gold, creating the Philosopher's Stone, that sorta stuff?"

He nods. "Which is why there are greatly feared. Forget turning metal into gold and whatnot, that's nothing in comparison to what the alchemists in Tevinter do."

"What, they sacrifice virgins after a sex rite and drink their blood under the full moon?" I ask jokingly.

"You'd be surprised at how accurate that sounds," he says grimly.

I stare at him.

"Whaa? No! No way!"

"Not exactly in the way you put it, but close."

I continue to stare, completely disregarding the sandwich in my hand.

"Well? Aren't you going to tell me?"

He smirks. "Not right now. I don't want to put you off your breakfast."

"I think it's a little too late for that."

He stares ahead at the Gallows.

"Hmmm…" The sound is deep, emanating from his chest, and it melts my bones. "You must understand that alchemy in Tevinter is the norm. It's openly tolerated and encouraged by the Imperial Chantry itself."

"Is the Chantry different there?"

"Very," he says darkly. "It is all but run by the alchemists. The Black Divine himself is one."

"But… I thought alchemy was forbidden by Chantries all around Thedas. Isn't it against the will of the Maker or something? Didn't Andraste herself oppose it?"

"The Imperial Chantry doesn't regard Andraste as a prophet. In Tevinter, she is a mere mortal woman, nothing more, nothing less."

I allow this to sink in. I'm not overly religious or anything, but I'm quite taken aback by all this.

"Blood sacrifices are an essential part of the alchemical practices in Tevinter. Though, they aren't restricted to virgins and they don't involve dances under the full moon," he adds with a smirk, but his tone his still dark. Resentful.

"Did Danarius ever conduct such sacrifices?"

"Oh, he did. He certainly did…" his voice trails off as he continues to stare at the ocean. After a time, he pulls out his phone and checks the time.

"It's only eight," he murmurs. "We have another…" he quickly counts in his head, "fourteen hours to go until the meeting." He shakes the hair away from his eyes and looks at me. "Got anything planned for today?"

"Umm… apart from my regular morning workout at the gym, nope. And I won't be going for that. Mother wanted me to get some things from the market, and I think I heard her say something about picking something up from the tailor, but I don't really have to do that today."

"No, lets. It'll give us something to do, at least."

 _He wants to spend the rest of the day in my company?_

"I don't wanna bore you or anything-"

"Marian," he cuts me off. "The last thing you could do is bore me."

 _Ah, that smile. That sinfully sexy smile_.

* * *

Being seen in public with Fenris is like… being famous. Everyone, women especially, have their eyes on us- er, him. And why wouldn't they? He's  _perfect_. His tall, lean and incredibly fit body, his smooth, caramel skin, his sleek, soft white hair, and those incredibly large and green eyes. Oh, and there are the visible markings on his chin too.

 _The mystery of the turtleneck has been solved at last_.

His sense of style is the icing on the cake. Today, he's wearing a black button up shirt and black jeans, usual black and grey Oxfords, the same black scarf from last night tied around his neck, and the black pea coat that was around my shivering frame less than twelve hours ago.

So, with the eyes of Hightown on us, we get on with Mother's shopping.

"I am very conspicuous here," Fenris quietly mutters to me over a box of potatoes.

I glance at him, my eyes scanning him from head to toe. I am so tempted to say 'because you're freaking  _gorgeous_ ", but instead, I settle with a shrug and a carefully nonchalant 'you look fine to me'.

He glances over his shoulder at a woman who has been openly staring at him for the past ten minutes.

He looks  _incredibly_  uncomfortable.

"You don't go out very often, do you?" I ask.

"Not during the day," he replies quietly. "Unless I have to get to our karate class, that is."

His incredible discomfort aside, Fenris is a very cute shopping buddy. He follows me around very closely, like an adorable puppy. If I take a couple of steps to reach for something, he takes the exact number of steps after me.

What slightly annoys me, however, is the way he refuses to let me carry any of the shopping bags. He takes them from me and ignores my persistent requests to let me help him out, and that kinda gets to me because it sort of implies that he thinks I'm too "fragile" to carry my own bags, which brings out the feminist in me.

Which is sort of a bad thing, seeing as the feminist in me doesn't like to be reasonable and see that he's just being the gentleman that he is.

But still. I like carrying my own shopping bags. In fact, I like carrying everyone else's shopping bags too. I'm weird like that.

After getting the shopping out of the way, we pass by the tailor and end up leaving empty-handed because I can't remember what it is that Mother wanted picked up.

We then drive over to Gamlen's to drop off the shopping bags.

"Wanna come in?" I ask as I pull up the hand brake.

"Errr…" he looks nervous.

"You don't have to," I say quickly.

"Wouldn't your family mind?" his eyes nervously flit up the stairs to Gamlen's front door.

"Not at all!"

 _Well, I don't know about Gamlen, but quite frankly, I don't give a damn_.

He bites his lower lip as he mulls it over.

"Alright," he finally says with uncertainty.

"Great!" I slide out of the car to collect the bags from the back seat. He quickly follows suit.

He takes the couple of bags that I have in my hand as I start to fumble with my keys at the front door.

"Thanks," I smile.

When I finally unlock the door, I hear him gulp.

"Hey," I tell him softly before I open it. "If you're uncomfortable doing this or anything…"

"No, it's fine," he says, but I don't buy it.

"You sure?"

He nods silently.

I give him a few seconds to change his mind before I open the door and walk in.

"Marian?" Mother calls out from the kitchen. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Mother!" I yell back.

I hear shuffling feet as she rushes out of the kitchen to greet me, soapy hands and all.

"Where have you been? I tried calling you, but your phone was-"

She stops midsentence when she spots Fenris standing silently beside me.

"Oh," she says, her expression embarrassed. "You have company."

"Mother, this is Fenris. He teaches karate with me at the gym," I smile at him as I say this. "And this is my mother Leandra, Fenris."

"How lovely to meet you, Fenris!" Mother approaches us, wiping off her hands on the embarrassingly bright yellow apron she has on. She extends a (dry) hand towards him.

I see him briefly shoot me a glance from beneath his curtain of white hair before he raises his hand and takes Mother's in a handshake.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Hawke," he says quietly and in an incredibly polite manner that makes me smile in a goofy, incredibly smitten kind of way.

"Please, call me Leandra," Mother smiles. I can see it in her curious blue eyes that she's already whipping up hundreds of theories about the nature of our relationship.

Fenris smiles and looks at the floor, the heavy shopping bags still in his hands.

"Oh, let me take those from you, dear," Mother says. He quietly hands a few of the lighter bags to her.

 _Hmph. He lets my mother carry bags but not me. Traitor_.

"Carver!" Mother calls out from over her shoulder. "Come in here and help us with the shopping bags!"

The sound of dragging feet announces Carver's arrival from the bedroom. He looks like he just woke up. And it's  _noon_.

He stops short when he sees Fenris.

"Carver, this is Fenris. My fellow karate instructor." I shoot him a warning glare from behind Fenris' back which he quickly decrypts as ' _Be nice'_.

"Hey," is all he manages to say.  _Hey_.

He takes all the bags from Mother and holds his hand out for the rest, which Fenris swiftly hands over to him. He then shuffles off to the kitchen without another word.

 _What a sweet and darling brother the Maker has blessed me with_.

"You didn't tell me we were having guests for lunch, dear!" Mother scolds me lightly. "I would have whipped up something special otherwise!"

I glance at Fenris' expression. Stoic. Which I take to mean as ' _I am incredibly uncomfortable right now but I am not willing to show it_ '.

"Errr, we're not having lunch here, Mother." I can almost swear that I see his stiff shoulders instantly relax upon hearing that. "We're heading off to the gym."

I'm a bad liar.

"Oh," she looks truly disappointed.  _Huh. Guess it worked_. "Alright then, dear. When will you be back?"

"Not till late. We're meeting Varric and Co. for drinks at the Hanged Man later."

 _Double disappointment_.

"Okay," she sighs. "Don't be too late, dear." She turns her gaze to Fenris. "It was a pleasure meeting you, dear. Pity you're not staying for lunch. You should definitely drop by for a meal sometime soon!"

Fenris smiles shyly, his eyes flitting from Mother's face to his Oxfords and back.

"Thank you. It is very kind of you to offer."

Mother smiles warmly back at him.

 _Brilliant. She likes him already_.

"Well, we'd best be off then," I say, turning back to the door. "I'll see you later, Mother."

"Goodbye, darling. Have fun!"

"We will," I call out just as I'm about the shut the door behind me. I turn to Fenris, who is much closer to me than I expected. "Well, that wasn't so bad now, was it?" I smile.

"Your Mother is very kind," he responds.

"Thanks," I say as we head down the stairs. "Yeah, she's great. Been a bit down since my father passed away, but at least she still manages to smile."

"I'm sorry," Fenris says quietly. "I didn't know about your father."

"I never mention it," I shrug. I don't exactly like talking about my dead father. Almost as much as I don't like talking about my dead sister.

Jeez. There's a lot of death in my family right now, isn't there?

"So… you hungry?" I ask him.

"Are you?"

"I asked you first," I smile.

"I can wait a little longer," he shrugs.

I watch him as he flips his hair away from his eyes.

 _I love it when he does that_.

But, when I think about the evening meeting ahead of us, I feel a bit worried.

R _eally_  worried, in fact.

Because if this were a trap, and if something were to happen to him, I'm not sure I'd be able to handle it.


	13. Chapter 13

  


"He's late."

We're standing under the gigantic vhenadahl tree right at the centre of the Alienage, half hidden in its shadow.

I don't say anything. It is eerily silent and the place is completely deserted. I glance over at Merrill's house in the far left corner. Her living room light is on. That makes me feel better. Safer. At least someone familiar is nearby if ever something bad were to happen.

I hear the sound of faint footsteps. I quickly turn my head to its source.

 _Nothing_.

I feel Fenris tense beside me, his breathing deep and deliberate.

"Are you sure it was tonight?" I ask, my eyes warily darting around from one dark corner to the other.

"Positive."

"Do you even know who this person is?" I whisper.

"If he really is the person he claimed to be in the email, yes, I do know him."

He always gives away just enough information to answer a question. Nothing more. For instance, I'd love it if he'd tell me who exactly this person is, but  _nooo_ ; to him, it's enough that I know that he knows him.  _How_  he knows him is clearly none of my business.  _Those_  boundaries still exist between us.

Any doubts we had are answered when a dark figure turns around the corner and appears at the top of the steps leading down to the Alienage. His face is indiscernible in the dark, but I can tell that he's scanning the place, searching. When he spots us, he slowly begins his descent down the steps, his footsteps nearly inaudible.

"Is that him?" I whisper, involuntarily taking a few steps closer to Fenris.

Fenris' green eyes carefully watch the dark figure as he slowly approaches us under the tree. His body is incredibly tense, and as still as a statue.

When the man is finally before us, Fenris places a hand on my chest and gently forces me behind him.

"So it really is you, Johan," Fenris says, his voice steely and stern.

"And it really is  _you_ , Fenris," the man named Johan replies in a thick and nasal voice.

"You contacted me, Johan. I have no reason to deceive you. You, however, have plenty."

I don't recognise the tone of voice Fenris' is using right now. He's never used it around me. It's so… strong and menacing.

And I  _like_  it.

"And who is this pretty thing?" Johan asks, his dark eyes settling on me. I notice that he deliberately ignored Fenris' comment.

I feel Fenris' body tense further before me. He shifts in his place, nearly entirely concealing me.

"Did you bring what I came here for, Johan?" Fenris demands, ignoring Johan's question.

The man nods. "Of course. It's in that safe house over there," he points at a dingy looking building at the far corner of the Alienage.

"Then let's get this over with," Fenris says. He turns and motions for me to follow him.

"Not so fast, Fenris," Johan says. He hasn't moved an inch from his place under the tree. Fenris stops and slowly turns to face Johan, his body once again stepping forward to conceal me.

"What is it now?" he asks venomously.

"The pretty one stays behind. This is a strictly private exchange."

Fenris opens his mouth to protest, but he doesn't say anything. He glares at Johan before turning to me.

"Don't," I whisper. "Fenris. Don't."

It's amazing how his hard, steely glare instantly transformed to a kind, warm smile now that he's addressing me.

"It'll be fine," he murmurs.

"I don't trust him," I say, my eyes darting to the man, who is now half cloaked in shadow. "I don't trust him one bit."

"I have to do this, Hawke. I've been after this information for a long time. I… I need this." His eyes are pleading for me to understand. They're almost  _puppy-like_.

I look at him imploringly, biting down on my lower lip to stop myself from protesting any further. He's not a child. I'm only here because he asked me to. I have no right to stop him from getting what he wants.

I nod, looking down to conceal my worry. He places his fingers underneath my chin to tilt my head back up and forces me to meet his gaze.

"It'll be fine," he repeats. And before I can say anything else, he turns to Johan, nods at him, and follows him to the safe house.

I just stand there, next to the vhenadahl tree, staring after the two of them as they walk away into the shadows.

I shiver.

I sit on a little bench beneath the tree, wrapping my arms around myself. I have half a mind to go over to Merrill's house, but I decide against it. We barely know each other and it's nearly eleven.

I watch the door through which both of them disappeared, my eyes wary, my ears straining to pick up even the slightest hint of a commotion.

All sorts of horrible thoughts pass through my mind.  _What if there are more men inside? What if Fenris is unconscious, bound and gagged and ready to be smuggled back to Tevinter?_

 _What if Danarius is here himself?_

I get up and walk towards the door. This "private exchange" is taking way longer than it should.

When I arrive at the door, I press my ear to it and listen intently.

I hear nothing, which greatly disturbs me.

I pull away and pace around in front of the door, my heart racing and my mind spinning.

 _What do I do? Do I just barge in? What if nothing's wrong and I only end up interrupting this exchange? What if my interruption frustrates the entire thing? Fenris will never forgive me…_

I freeze when I hear the sound of something breaking.

I look up. The sound came from the safe house.

My heart is nearly going to jump out of my mouth and I'm losing my mind with worry.

 _Fuck this._

I stride towards the door and pull on the handle.

It's locked.

I bang loudly against it.

"Fenris?" I call out. "Fenris, are you in there?"

Silence.

 _Fuck_.

 _Think fast, Hawke. Think fast_.

I step back and, with all the strength I can muster, I aim a kick at the door to break it down.

It doesn't work.

"Fuck!" I swear in a much louder voice than I intend to, but I'm beyond caring at this point.

Just as I'm preparing to aim another kick at the door, it bursts open and Fenris shoots out of the house, his hair dishevelled and his eyes frantic. When he sees me, he grabs my arm and runs without a word, without a moment's deliberation.

"Fenris! What the heck's going on?"

"We need to get out of here!" he answers without turning to look at me. He's panting and I'm beginning to feel he has no idea where he's taking us. He leads me (well, drags me, really) behind a closed market stall at the far end of the Alienage. He leans against it, panting and sweating.

I stare at his face, horrified.

"You're bleeding! Maker, Fenris, we have to get you to a hospital!"

"I'm fine," he pants. He looks really terrified.

"Are you insane?"  _Now it's my turn to be frantic_. "Your forehead is literally spilling blood!"

"I said I'm fine, Hawke, alright?" he snaps. "I'm not going to let some doctor touch me."

"This isn't time for your doctor allergy, Fenris! I said you're fucking bleeding!"

He stops panting and stares at me. I've never yelled at him before.

"Keep your voice down," he says quietly.

"Merrill lives right opposite us," I whisper. "She can get you something for that cut, a cloth or something."

"Merrill?"

Fuck, the hair on his eyes is literally drenched in blood.  _Drenched_.

"She's a friend," I explain. I quickly grab his arm and pull him after me. "C'mon, before you bleed to death!"

Much to my surprise, he doesn't pull his arm away from my grasp and obediently allows me to lead him.

"Stick to the shadows," he whispers. "I don't want us seen."

"What happened in there?" I ask, turning back to look at him. He looks positively  _beaten up_.

"I'll explain once we're somewhere safe," he whispers. He wipes at the blood spilling down at his face. "Fuck, I really am bleeding." His voice sounds unsteady and weak.

I knock on Merrill's front door much more frantically than I should at midnight. But Fenris has got blood cascading from his forehead and I'm just feeling very frantic and desperate right now.

The lights in the living room are still on.

 _Good. She's awake_.

I hear the door unlock and it barely opens an inch; just enough for Merrill's large green eye to peek through the crack at her late night visitors.

"Hawke?" she immediately opens the door all the way. "What a pleasant surprise! A late surprise, but nonetheless pleasant!"

"Merrill, we need your help. Fenris is hurt, he's bleeding, we need something to stop it!"

I'm shaking and sweating and my hands are covered in Fenris' blood and I can barely speak coherently. But I know that Merrill understood me because her wide eyes dart over to Fenris, who is now shivering behind me.

"Oh my!" she gasps. She quickly steps aside and urges us to come in. "What's happened?" she asks as she shuts the door and locks it behind her.

"We'll explain later, Merrill, just please get us a cloth or something! Anything to stem the blood flow!" I gently help Fenris onto a chair and sit beside him, pressing my hand on the gash. He looks incredibly pale and his lips are turning blue.

Merrill quickly darts further inside her little apartment and reappears a few seconds later with a first aid kit and a white cloth. She quickly hands the cloth to me and opens the first aid kit, rummaging inside it.

I move my hand from the gash and quickly replace it with the cloth, my hands trembling. Fenris groans, his eyes slightly out of focus.

"Fenris, stay with me," I whisper. "Don't lose focus. You can do this."

He nods once, his face shiny and damp with sweat.

"Hawke, move aside. I need to bandage him up."

"I can do it Merrill, just give me-"

"Hawke, I'm a nurse. Let me handle this" she says with authority.

I stare at her. Isabela never mentioned Merrill was a nurse.

I trust her though, so I quickly stand up, leaving my hand on Fenris' forehead until Merrill quickly replaces it with her own.

I watch as she expertly wraps the bandage around his head. She ties is much tighter than I would think is comfortable, but I trust that she knows exactly what she's doing, so I don't say a word.

"That's all I can do, I'm afraid. You'll need to get him to a doctor, Hawke." Merrill looks worried. The gash must be really serious. It  _looks_  serious. All that  _blood_.

"No, no doctor," Fenris mumbles weakly. "Please…"

I look at the pleading expression on his bloodied face.

He can't stay like this. There's no way I'm allowing that.

"You think he needs to get stitched up?" I ask Merrill, my eyes still on his, which are staring at me, heavy-lidded and weak, yet imploring nonetheless.

 _He **really**  doesn't want a doctor_.

"Definitely," Merrill replies in that same (and unfamiliar) authoritative tone. "A gash that serious… What happened to him, anyway?"

"I… I don't know," I whisper. "He was at a meeting with someone, someone who promised him to give him something he was after. We were right here at the Alienage. I wasn't allowed to go with him, so I waited and… he took too long, so I went to check on him and…" I stare at the dark, red spot forming on the bandage around his head. "And he just ran out… bleeding." My voice breaks.

I'm shaking so much that Merrill takes me in a gentle hug.

"It'll be alright, Marian," she whispers gently. She is considerably shorter than I am. "I know exactly who can help us."

I pull away from the hug. "But he won't go to the hospital," my eyes are swimming in tears. I hate crying. It makes me feel weak. But I don't care about that now. With him in this state, I  _am_  weak.

"He won't need to," Merrill smiles. "I know someone who can help."

"What? Who? He won't let a doctor come anywhere near him, Merrill-"

"He's not a doctor, Hawke. Well, not exactly."

I stare at her as though she's gone mad.

"I'm not about to let just anyone stitch him up! We need someone qualified, Merrill-"

"This person  _is_  qualified, Hawke. He's just… not officially certified."

I immediately understand who she's referring to.

I glance at Fenris, who is now nearly as pale as a ghost, which is incredibly alarming considering his naturally darker complexion, and I realise we have no other choice.

 _Unlicensed GP it is_.

  



	14. Chapter 14

"Hold still, would you?" Anders tells Fenris for what must be the tenth time. After much pleading and encouragement (and a few tears from me), Fenris finally (and very reluctantly) allowed Anders to inject a local anaesthetic in his forehead and stitch his wound.

"I  _am_  holding still. You just don't know what you're doing," Fenris mutters darkly. Anders sighs but otherwise ignores him.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened, then?" Anders asks as he finally finishes the final stitch. "That's quite the gash you've got there."

Fenris meets my gaze and remains silent for a while. "It's none of your business what happened," he says in a low, stern voice.

"Fine," Anders dabs at the stitched wound with a cotton and a clear substance. "All done," he smiles at me. He gets up from the chair propped opposite the worn out green sofa Fenris is sitting on.

"Thank the Maker," I breathe, immediately going over to sit next to Fenris. I examine the stitches closely. There are six of them.

 _Six_.

"How're you feeling?" I ask him gently. I nearly swipe away a bloodied lock of hair from his eyes, but I stop myself halfway through. His green eyes, now incredibly tired and droopy, glance at my hand as it freezes in mid-air. I quickly run my fingers through my own hair as a disguise.

"Fine," he replies. "I just… need to rest, that's all."

He looks incredibly tired, and that really worries me.

"Anders, he hasn't lost a lot of blood, has he?" I ask over my shoulder.

"No, you stemmed the flow before any significant harm could be done. His blood pressure's a bit lower than normal, but it's still good." he replies from Merrill's bathroom. I can hear the sound of running water and metallic clinks, which tells me he's washing his medical tools.

"Do you need something, Fenris?" Merrill asks from her kitchen's doorway. "A cup of coffee or something? Maybe something to eat?"

"No, I'm fine," Fenris repeats in a cold, steely voice. He fixes his eyes on mine. "We should leave, Hawke. It's getting late."

"You should have something to eat, Fenris," I say worriedly. "You look exhausted."

"Later," he mumbles. "For now, I want to leave. Please, Hawke."

"Are you okay to walk?" I ask.

"Yes, of course I am."

I sigh.  _No, he doesn't look okay to walk. He doesn't look okay to do anything_.

"I'll go get the car here for you," I offer. "Make it a little easier for you."

"There's no need," he quickly says. "Stop worrying, Hawke, I said I'm fine."

I watch his face closely. His expression clearly indicates that he won't budge.

 _So stubborn_.

"Alright," I say reluctantly. "But don't go blaming me if you collapse on the way."

"I won't," he smirks. Or tries to.

We get up simultaneously and he immediately heads towards the door.

"Are you leaving already?" Merrill asks, bringing in a tray of cookies and coffee from the kitchen.

"Yeah, it's getting late," I say. I indicate with my eyes towards Fenris to communicate my lack of an option to do anything else but leave.

"Oh, alright," Merrill looks a little disappointed. She looks  _so_  young. Almost childlike. "You take care of yourself, Fenris," she adds with a kind smile. Fenris gives her a stiff nod in response.

"Leaving so soon?" Anders finally walks out of the bathroom, medical kit in his hand. There are blood stains on the front of his Metallica t-shirt.

"Calling it a night. We've been up since dawn."

"Dawn?" Anders exclaims. "What're you guys, cockerels?"

"It's not a habit," I reply, my voice tired.  _And I'm certainly not planning on making it one_.

"Hmmm. Well, alright then," he steps closer to me and extends his right hand. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Marian." He has his usual kind smile on his tired, stubbled face.

"Same here," I smile. I can see from the corner of my eye that Fenris is watching us.  _Closely_.

Anders holds my hand in his far longer than necessary. His hand is warm and sweaty against mine, and his gaze lingers on my face, which makes me uncomfortable.

Fenris clears his throat impatiently, which rouses Anders from his state of inertia. I quickly slide my hand away from his.

 _Ew. So sweaty_. I wipe my hand on the side of my jeans as subtly as possible.

"I guess I'll see you around then, Marian," he says softly. I  _really_  don't like the way his voice sounds right now. It's way too soft for comfort. And unlike when Fenris holds my gaze, I try my best to avoid Anders' eyes, which are completely fixated on my face.

"Yeah," I say, stepping away from him and towards Fenris, who has his arms crossed and his eyes intently fixed on Anders, as though challenging him to something.

"Feel better, Fenris," Anders says, finally breaking his gaze at me and glancing at Fenris. "I'm glad you didn't die," he smirks.

Fenris doesn't say anything. His eyes are cold and steely, almost angry.

"Alright then," I say, turning to walk out the door, which is now being held open by Fenris. "Thanks for the help, you guys. You both are literally life-savers. Have a good one."

"Goodnight, you two!" Merrill chirps from her seat on the sofa, her mouth stuffed with a cookie.

"Night," Anders says in that same, soft voice.

I wave and step out. Fenris immediately shuts the door behind me. His eyes nervously scan the dark Alienage.

"Are you alright?" I ask with concern.

"Let's just get out of here. Quick," he mutters.

Under cover of shadow, we swiftly cross the Alienage, climb the set of stairs leading away from it, and head towards my car, which is parked outside Gamlen's place. I quickly lock the doors as soon as we're in.

"Hightown?" I ask, inserting the key in the ignition.

"No," he says slowly. His eyes are fixed on his hands. "I don't I'll be staying at the mansion tonight."

"Okay... Where will you be staying, then?"

"The Hanged Man," he replies after a brief moment of deliberation.

I nod and start to drive the short distance to the tavern.

"So, you absolutely refuse to be anywhere near a doctor, yet you let an unlicensed GP stitch your forehead?" I ask jokingly.

"I only let that man touch me because-" he pauses, his eyes briefly darting to me before intently focusing on his hands again. He doesn't finish his sentence.

I glance sideways at him. It's too dark to tell, but he seems nervous all of a sudden.

"Because?" I prompt.

He hesitates before saying anything.

"Because… I couldn't stand it," he whispers.

"Couldn't stand what?" I ask in a bewildered tone. I turn around a corner and park my car in the space closest to the tavern's entrance. I pull up the hand brake and turn towards him, patiently waiting for an explanation.

He lets out a slow, controlled breath, as though calming himself. His gaze finally meets mine.

"I couldn't stand seeing you cry."

I stare at him, immediately feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. I'm struck dumb. Absolutely speechless.

"Shall we go in?" he smiles, his eyes on my cheeks, which are no doubt a deep shade of red.

 _Always giving away my feelings. Stupid, treacherous cheeks_.

I quickly nod and step out of the car. I notice him watching me from his seat as I get out before he slips out of the passenger side. He swiftly strides towards the tavern door and holds it open for me. I smile shyly when I catch his eye on my way in.

The loud noises and the fully packed tavern are a very comforting and refreshing change from the gloomy darkness of the Alienage. For once, the usually irksome yelling and drunken singing is welcoming to my ears.

Fenris walks ahead of me towards Corff the bar tender. He beckons me to follow. As he makes his way over, I notice a few people staring at him. The hair on his eyes, although covering the stitches (which look quite serious), is red with blood, and the whiteness of the rest of his hair accentuates the contrast.

"Got a room for the night?" Fenris yells over the noise, ignoring Corff's widening eyes when he sees the blood on his hair.  _Maker, his voice sounds so good when he yells. When does his voice_ **not** _sound so good?_

"Give me a sec," Corff says, trying his best to stop staring at Fenris. He ducks beneath the counter and re-emerges with an old, battered leather book. He flips to a page and scans it quickly.

"Yep, second room to the left. Right after Varric's."

"How much?" Fenris asks as he pulls out his wallet from the back pocket of his black jeans.

"50 sovereigns."

Fenris rummages around in his wallet and hands Corff the money.

"Keep the change," he says. Corff nods his thanks and hands him the room's key.

"Have a good one," Corff tells Fenris. "And you, Mistress Hawke," he adds when he sees me.

"Busy night, eh Corff?" I ask, leaning on my elbows on the counter. From the look on Fenris' face, I decided to step in and keep Corff from asking him about the blood.

"Same as every other night, mistress."

"C'mon," Fenris says in my ear. I involuntarily shiver at the sudden proximity of his voice.

I bid goodbye to Corff and follow Fenris up the stairs and onto the upper floor landing. I notice him trying his best to cross the landing without being seen through Varric's open suite door.

"Something the matter?" I ask as I see him glance repeatedly behind his back at the suite.

"I don't want Varric to see us," he whispers. "I don't want him to know I'm here at all."

"Okay," I whisper. He opens the door, holds it open for me, then quickly slips through it, shutting it firmly behind him. The sound of the lock makes my heart jolt.

 _Alone in a locked room with Fenris. Well, a bloodied, stitched up Fenris. Not exactly the way I had always imagined it_.

I sit on one of the chairs by the fireplace and watch as he paces around the room, frowning.

"Fenris, you've been through a lot tonight," I gently say to him. "Just sit down and relax a little before taking a nice hot bath to wash off all that blood." I look down at my hands, which are stained with dry blood as well.  _His blood. On my hands_.

I shudder.

He ignores me, but he slows down his pace. He then walks to the fireplace and stands before it, his back turned to me.

"It was a trap," he quietly says after what seems like ages.

"What happened?" I whisper. He's finally going to talk about it.

He doesn't respond. He continues to keep his back turned to me, standing as still as a statue (an incredibly beautiful statute, at that), his body illuminated by the dancing flames.

"There were two of them," he finally says in that same, low voice. "One was already waiting inside. They didn't attack immediately. Tried to get some information out of me through casual talk, information about where I'm staying and for how long have I been here…" he turns his head towards me. "Questions about you too."

I stare at his back, listening intently. He turns around and faces me, but doesn't move from his place.

"They wanted to know who you were and why you were with me. They asked for your name, where you lived…" he pauses, his eyes focused on the old and torn rug before him.

"When I refused to answer their questions, that's when they started getting violent. I… I didn't attack. I only defended myself. But, when Johan threatened to get out and drag you in here and…" he squeezes his eyes shut, as though trying to get rid of a deeply unpleasant memory, "I just lost it. I… I killed him."

He doesn't need to tell me what that Johan intended to do to me. I saw it in his eyes when he first saw me.  _'And who is this pretty thing?'_  was what he'd said. I could almost hear the sick thoughts going through his mind as he laid his bulging yellow eyes on me. I feel my stomach flip in disgust.

"And how did  _that_  happen?" I ask, indicating to my own forehead with my hand.

"That other man pushed me against a wall as soon as I snapped that bastard Johan's neck. Split my forehead open, though I didn't know it then."

His eyes are filled with rage. Livid.

"And what did you do to him?"

"Killed him too. I had to. I couldn't risk any of this going back to Danarius. Though, I'm certain this will only cement his suspicions that I am here."

"So, there was never any information about your family, was there?"

"No," he whispers. For just a second, he looked to be on the verge of tears, but the moment was so fleeting I could've imagined it.

"So, Danarius sent them."

He nods stiffly, his eyes still fixed on the rug.

I stare at him, frozen in my seat.

"What are you going to do?" I ask, my voice barely audible.

"I don't know yet," he replies. He finally meets my eyes. "I really don't know. All I know is that I won't run. Not again. There comes a time when you must stop running. When you turn and face the tiger."

"For how long have you… been on the run?"

"Three years now. Danarius has a way of finding me," he pauses and scratches his chin, his eyes deep in thought. "Perhaps it is the markings," he continues. "Whatever the means, it never takes him long to follow."

"The markings? What, they allow him to keep tabs on you or something?"

"I'm not sure. But you must bear in mind that lyrium is a creation of his. He alone knows its uses and its potential."

"An Alchemist for a foster father. Maker…" I shake my head in disbelief.

He laughs. "Just my luck."

He moves to sit on the chair across from me.

"I'm just glad nothing happened to you, Hawke. I don't think I would have ever forgiven myself if you were hurt."

 _And once again, those treacherous cheeks go red_.

"You shouldn't worry about me. I'm a karate expert, remember?" I smirk and flex my right bicep mockingly.

He chuckles. "Yes… you are quite an extraordinary woman, Hawke…" His eyes are  _burning_  into mine.

Not even humour can prevent the butterflies that are now flooding my stomach. I rub my neck and look away. I notice a fruit basket on a round table in the middle of the room.

"You still haven't eaten anything," I remind him. "You've lost a lot of blood, Fenris. You should eat."

"Yes, messere," he says in mock formality. It's amazing how, despite everything that he's been through tonight, he still manages to use that impeccable dry sense of humour of his.

I get up and stretch.

"I should go. You need to wash and have a good night's sleep," I glance at the time on my phone. "Maker's breath, it's nearly three in the morning! You've been up for nearly twenty four hours, Fenris!"

"So have you," he reminds me.

"I'm not the one who lost a gallon of blood when my forehead got split open by a pair of thugs who were sent after me by my blood-thirsty Alchemist foster father," I remind him in return.

His shoulders shake as he laughs quietly.

"Point taken," he smiles.

"Alright then," I smile. "Goodnight. I'll check up on you tomorrow."

I make my way towards the door and place my hand on the door knob. I pause when I feel a warm hand gently close around my wrist.

I turn around to find Fenris' face inches away from mine. He gently pushes me against the door, placing both hands against it, on either side of me. I feel his warm breath on my face. It smells like the wine he drank before the incident. I inhale it and it dizzies me.

He closes the distance between our faces, touching his lips lightly against mine, just like the way he did that Saturday night in my car. A gentle caress, a question, as though he's testing the waters.

My hands, which were limp at my sides so far, touch the sides of his waist, pulling him closer to me. He immediately responds, pressing his body against mine. He moves his hands from the door and places them on either side of my face, gluing my lips to his. My knees tremble, and I feel like I'm on the verge of passing out.

 _I can't believe this is happening, I can't believe this is happening, I can't believe this is happening!_

I feel his tongue brush against mine and I completely lose the ability to stay on my feet. Just as I start sliding down against the door, he holds me upright and breaks the kiss, an expression of concern on his beautiful (and now flushed) face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Yeah," I laugh lightly. "Just… lost my balance is all."

"Hmmmm," he smiles as he strokes the hair away from my eyes. I smile back and place my palm against his cheek. He closes his eyes at my touch and sighs.

"You're exhausted," I murmur. "You should get some sleep, Fenris."

"Say that again."

"Say what again?" I ask.

"My name. Say my name again."

I smile as I stroke the side of his face with my thumb.

"You're practically half-asleep now,  _Fenris_ ," I smirk. "And quite frankly, so am I. I should go." I'm such a liar. I don't want to go. The last thing I want to do is leave him. But, for his own sake, I must. He needs his rest more than anything right now.

He smiles, his eyes still closed. He lightly kisses first my palm, then my lips, before stepping back. I hear his stomach rumble.

"Guess I could do with some food right about now," he laughs.

That laugh. It's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. But behind all his smiles and humour, I can still see the fear in his eyes.

He's being hunted.


	15. Chapter 15

  


I've been making a lot of money lately.

Like,  _serious_ money. No joke.

It makes me want to kiss Varric. Just jump all over him and shower him with kisses.

Why?

Because he led me to Athenril.

I started training her men the Monday following Fenris' incident. At first, I was worried that I'd have to cancel my regular classes at the gym to make time for these sessions, but thankfully, Varric took care of that (another reason why I want to shower that amazing dwarf in kisses). He convinced Athenril to let her men come and train with the rest of my pupils at the gym. So, I train them for an hour on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and I hold special additional classes with them on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So, that's literally no rest day for me throughout the week.

But here's why it is  _so_  worth it: I get paid 250 sovereigns an hour- yes, you read correctly-  _two hundred and fifty_ sovereigns an  _hour_ to train Athenril's men. Isn't that what those celebrity personal trainers get paid or something?

It's Friday, and so far, I've made 1,250 sovereigns. In  _five_  days. And this excludes my regular weekly wages from the gym. This may be nothing to the flashy nobles in their flashy clothes, living in their flashy mansions in flashy Hightown, but to a Fereldan refugee such as myself, it's a miracle. A downright  _miracle_.

"That's it for today, guys. Great job and I'll see you all next week. Have a great weekend!"

I gulp down some water and start packing my gym bag.

"Sensei Hawke?"

I turn around and see a light haired teenage boy approaching me.

"What's up, Connor?"

"When's Sensei Fenris coming back? It's been a week already. Is he alright?"

I smile at the boy's evident concern. Fenris hasn't been to training this past week because of his injury. He's back in Hightown, as much as I begged him not to go. That man has no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.

"He's just taking a bit of a break, Connor. He hasn't been well lately. He'll be back soon."

"Soon as in next week kind of soon?"

"I… I'm not sure. Probably," I reply. The truth is, Fenris didn't even want to skip this week. He kept insisting that he was fine and fit enough to train, but I played the boss card and literally ordered him to take a break. So, I highly doubt he'd skip classes next week.

"Okay," Connor says. "I just… He's a really cool guy. I'd hate it if he stopped training us with you," he shrugs.

"He won't stop," I assure him. "I'll personally kick his ass if he does," I add with a wink.

Connor laughs and wishes me a good weekend before he leaves.

I have a quick shower and dry my hair to avoid falling ill (it's September and it's already freezing!). As soon as I leave the women's changing room, I walk straight into a tall, blonde, and incredibly handsome old friend: Alistair, yet again (why do I always bump into that man post training showers?)

"Marian!" he exclaims. "Long time no see! How've you been, beautiful?"

I blush. Have I mentioned that I used to have a thing for Alistair? Way back when we were both in Ferelden. Yeah… we were sort of an item, except we were both too shy and… prudish to go  _all the way_ , if you catch my drift. Or, as Alistair put it, we never 'licked any lampposts in winter'. Don't ask; I have no idea. Alistair's funny like that. Anyway, it never went beyond hand holding and kissing and the occasional movie date. We broke up shortly before the civil war broke out and were both surprised when we ran into each other here at the gym one day.

"Hey, Al," I beam. "I've been good, thanks. Great, actually," I add as the thought of Fenris crosses my mind. "How about you?"

"Surviving," he shrugs. "You heading home?"

"Yep."

"Great, I'll walk you to your car," he smiles. Ah, that smile. It still makes me all mushy on the inside.  _Tsk_.

"Umm, actually, I walked here."

"Did you?" he raises his eyebrows. "Why, something happened to that adorable Proton of yours?"

"Nope," I shrug. "The weather's nice and cool and I live kind of nearby, so I figured I'd walk."  _And the obsession of my life is very fond of walking, and I'm very fond of him, so I've consequently become really fond of walking as well_.

These things rub off, you know?

"I see. Well… want me to drop you home? It's on the way. Or… I'm free tonight so… maybe we could go out for drinks? Have a little chat, just like old times." His smile is wide and…  _hopeful_. He looks like a hopeful little puppy. A little Golden Retriever puppy.

So cute!

Just as I open my mouth to reply , I hear a text message notification from my phone. I pull it out and quickly slide a finger across the screen to unlock it.

 **Text message from Fenris:**

 **I wanna see you. Free tonight?**

Unable to control the wide grin spreading across my face, I look up at Alistair and try to sound apologetic.

"I'm so sorry, Alistair, I can't. Not tonight. I really would have loved to catch up and all, but I've already got plans."

I'm an awful person, grinning like that while trying my best to sound sincerely sorry at the same time.

"Oh," his smile fades. "Is it a… a…"  _Oh no. Don't do it, Alistair. Don't ask me if I'm going out on_ \- "a date?"

 _Awk-ward_.

"Yeah. I mean, no. I mean," I grimace at my incredible stupidity. "Sort of."

 _Sort of? Sort of, Hawke?_

"Huh," he slowly nods once. "Someone I know?" He is  _so_  obviously trying hard to sound aloof and nonchalant, and he is also  _so_  obviously failing at that. Epically.

"Umm, you might," I say quickly. I glance at the message still displayed (and still unanswered) on my phone's screen.  _He's gonna think I'm not interested. He's gonna think I don't want to see him!_

"Listen, I uhh, I gotta go. To this thing. I'm kinda running late," I sidestep him and head to the sliding glass doors. "It was great seeing you again, Al! We'll catch up some other time, okay?"

And I run off without waiting for a response.

My fingers fly across the touchscreen as I type out a reply.

 **I've got nothing planned. What's on your mind?**

I walk as swiftly as possible towards Gamlen's house, a wide smile spreading across my face. I haven't seen Fenris since I dropped him back at his mansion on the evening after the incident. I've been busy all week with all the training and whatnot and he's been recuperating from the incident. At my insistence, might I add.

 **Dinner at** _ **Fleur D'Orlais**_ **? My treat**.

 _Fleur D'Orlais_? That's like the most super classy, super expensive Orlesian restaurant in Hightown! Yeah. His treat in his  _dreams_.

 **I'm going to pretend I never read that last part. But yes, I'd love to (: What time?**

I glance at the time now. 6 pm.

 **Fenris: 7:30?**

 _But I don't wanna wait an hour and a half to see you!_

 **7:30 is perfect.**

 _Fenris is perfect._

 **Fenris: Great. You'll find me there. Can't wait.**

If there was a goofier, wider grin than the one plastered on my face right now, I've never seen it.

I run all the way back home.

"Marian! How was-"

"Great, Mother! Great!" I rapidly say as I bolt into the bedroom. I throw my gym bag on the bed and throw open the closet doors.

You know what the worst part of dressing up for a date is? Hopelessly staring at the contents of your wardrobe blankly for long stretches of time, as though the outfit of your desire will magically present itself before your eyes if you stare long enough.

I sigh. I was never good at this dressing up business. For starters, I just didn't do dates. I went on a couple of dates at sixteen, a few with Alistair in my early twenties, but that's just about it. What further complicates things is the fact that I am a complete and utter tomboy. I've always hated shopping and dressing up and makeup, which makes me very inexperienced in this area. Not to mention dismally _hopeless_.

So, I do the only thing a sane person in my position would do.

I call Isabela.

She shows up less than ten minutes after my call, emergency kit in hand (well, I wouldn't call it a "kit"; it's more like a huge leopard print luggage bag).

"I am  _so_  glad you called me, kitten," she says as she scrutinises my wardrobe, "Everything in here is just so…  _boring_." She pulls out a few of my shirts and jeans. "Is this really all you own? T shirts, the occasional tank top and dozens of pairs of jeans?"

I shrug, "Pretty much, yeah."

"Urgh," she shakes her head as she turns away from my apparently pitiable wardrobe and throws open her enormous leopard print bag. She proceeds to pull out various (and very fashionable) articles of clothing, flinging them on the bed.

And that's what we spend the next thirty minutes doing; Isabela forces me to try on nearly every single outfit she owns, and I, in my desperate attempt to look sexy for Fenris, do exactly as she commands. Even Mother has joined in on the fun. She's perched on the bed, smoking a cigarette as she scrutinises the latest outfit on me.

"Now this, I  _love_ ," she remarks. "Not too flashy and not too conservative. And it fits you like a glove!"

"I agree with mama Hawke here, kitten," Isabela grins. "You look  _hot_."

I look at my reflection in the full size mirror in the corner of the room. I'm wearing a dress; a little black dress that ends way above my knees and is low cut enough to display 80% of my cleavage (which appears to be a trend among Isabela's wardrobe). And it  _clings_. It is literally clinging to every single inch of my body that it covers, which is not much, mind you.

 _Not too flashy and not too conservative? How about, way too flashy and not conservative in any way or form?_

But, I sympathise with my mother's comment; in comparison to all the other outfits I've tried on, this one has got to be the most played down.

I sigh audibly as I scrutinise my very bare legs. I'm always in a pair of jeans, so seeing them on display like this is… well… downright uncomfortable.

 _Wait! Is that CELLULITE?_

"Sweetheart, stop looking at yourself like that!" Mother says, "You look beautiful."

"Absolutely stunning," Isabela purrs into my ear. "Fenris doesn't know what's coming for him tonight," she adds in a whisper that only I can hear. I roll my eyes at her reflection in the mirror and check the time.

"Shit! It's nearly seven!"

Isabela quickly pulls out a pair of 6 inch, pointy (and according to her, incredibly sexy) black stilettos and forces me to put them on.

The problem is, I'm five foot eight. Which would make me six foot one with heels on. Which would make me tower over Fenris, who is around an inch taller than me when he stands straight (he has terrible posture, that man), which would in turn make us an incredibly odd pairing (I don't like towering over the men I date).

After battling with Isabela about the shoes, I finally emerge victorious and end up wearing my incredibly comfortable black (and stylish) ballerina flats.

"What about your face?" Isabela shrieks as I start to head out to the front door.

"What about my face?" I pause, confused.

"Marian doesn't go anywhere near makeup, sweety," Mother tells Isabela.

"I know that, but tonight's an exception!" Isabela exclaims. "Come back in here and let me fix you up!"

I groan. I think about arguing, but I look at the time and I realise I don't have much time for that. I slump onto the chair at the dressing table and, because I trust Isabela's taste (her makeup is always impeccably gorgeous), I let her paint me as she pleases.

I must say, when I look at my reflection, I like what I see. I mean, I  _really_  like what I see. Isabela didn't do much; she focused on my eyes and applied a smoky look. My lips and cheeks are virtually untouched (a fact that I am  _very_  grateful for). The dark, charcoal shades really make my blue eyes pop. I mean, even  _I_  can't deny that my eyes look incredibly blue and piercing with all that contrast.

I grin up at Isabela's smug face, "I love it," I tell her.

"Of course you do, kitten," she beams. "You look  _amazing_."

"You look stunning, Marian!" Mother squeals, leaving her place on the bed and walking towards us at the dressing table. "Isabela, I didn't think what you did was possible! She'd never let me come within ten feet of her face!"

"I can be very persuasive," Isabela smirks.

 _Oh, believe me, Isabela, if it weren't for the time constraint, you'd still be begging me to let you so much as touch my face_.

Isabela looks at the time and shrieks, "Okay, you're all dolled up and gorgeous, now go, go,  _go_!"

I quickly grab my little black clutch and my black military coat, give Mother a quick peck on the cheek and zoom to the front door, with Isabela right at my heels.

"You're so gorgeous, I'm getting all hot and bothered just looking at you!" she laughs, before adding in the most seductive purr, "Go on; give that sexy beast a night he'll  _never_  forget."

"Believe me, we're not even close to going that far," I say. Which is a good thing; I don't think I'm ready for licking any lampposts yet.

"Oh, believe  _me_ , Marian, it won't be long now," she purrs.  _Cougar_. "Alright, shoo!" she smacks my behind and gently pushes me through the front door. I run to my car and jump in, waving at her before backing out and setting off to Hightown.

I'm feeling very nervous, so I put on some  _Bon Iver_  to soothe me. It's only sunk in now that I'm on my way to my first official date with Fenris. If you would've told me when I first met him that this would be happening in less than three months' time, I would have rolled my eyes and laughed in disbelief. I  _am_ in a state of disbelief even now. I gulp, my heart already racing in my chest.

I haven't been on a date in a long,  _long_  time.

I arrive in Hightown at twenty past seven. I park my car in the first available space I find and swiftly make my way towards Sovereign Avenue, the swankiest district in Hightown. Kind of like the Champs-Elysees in Val Royeaux.

I've never been to  _Fleur D'Orlais_  (hello? Fereldan refugee here?), but it's really hard to miss, the exterior being extravagant and over-the-top, just like everything else that's Orlesian. When I see the fancy gold print of the restaurant's name, I shake my head and smile to myself.

 _There is no way I'm letting him pay for me tonight_.

As soon as I enter, a dark middle-aged man addresses me from behind the counter.

"Bon soir, messere," he says in a thick, Orlesian accent. "Do you have a reservation for tonight?"

 _Crap. I never asked Fenris for the reservation name or number_. I go with the obvious response.

"Uhh, yes…" I glance around the restaurant, trying to find Fenris, but it's so dimly lit in here and I can barely make out the patrons' faces. "I think it's under the name 'Fenris'?"

"Fenris! Ah yes, of course! May I take your coat before I show you to your table, messere?"

"Sure," I turn around and let him take it. I suddenly feel overly exposed. I gulp, feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

 _I want my coat back!_

"Please, come this way, messere" He doesn't even check the list to verify Fenris' name. I mean, the place is quite packed, so I don't expect him to remember each and every name on the list by heart.

 _Huh_.  _Maybe Fenris a regular? He does live in Hightown, after all._

I follow the host into the dining area, my heart hammering against my ribs.

As we walk further into the restaurant, I finally see him. Our table is next to a window, and he's staring out of it, his eyes lost in thought, caramel skin illuminated under the moonlight.

 _Maker, he's beautiful_.

I take a deep breath and calm myself down.

 _You can do this, Hawke. You can do this_.

  



	16. Chapter 16

"Voila, messere," the host says when we reach the table. The sound rouses Fenris from his reverie, startling him for a moment. Then, he sees me.

And I mean _sees_  me.

The first thing I notice is how his eyes widen almost instantaneously. Even in the restaurant's dim light, I see his pupils dilate. Then, a small smile forms on his full lips. He rises from his seat, his eyes quickly sweeping over my entire body until finally resting on my face. I notice that they never linger too long on one place (cleavage,  _ahem ahem_ ), and that makes me feel a rush of trust towards him.

"Hey," I smile shyly.

He swallows audibly, "Hawke…" he says, his expression stunned. "You look…  _beautiful_ ," he barely whispers that last word.

I feel my face go incredibly warm. The host draws back the chair opposite Fenris for me and I sit down. Fenris blinks rapidly and clears his throat, his eyes darting away from me as he quickly sits back down.

"Here are the menus," the host hands us a couple of extremely frilly and fancy looking menus. "I will be back shortly to take your orders," he bows his head and leaves.

I glance at Fenris and find him looking at me. As soon as our eyes meet, he smiles. A nervous smile.  _The cutest smile I've ever seen_.

"How was training?" he asks. His voice is a little louder than usual (which isn't loud at all, considering how low his voice normally is). That usually happens to me when I'm nervous.

Which I am right now. Very,  _very_  nervous.

"Good," I reply, my hands fidgeting on my lap. "You're much missed there, you know. Everyone's been asking after you. Connor was worried you'd left. I told him that I'd kick your ass if you did. That seemed to cheer him up."

He laughs that throaty laugh of his and keeps quiet for a moment, that wonderfully familiar half smile on his lips, "I would never leave," he murmurs. "Never."

His eyes smoulder, and I'm finding it very difficult to function right now.

I clear my throat and smile shyly, my eyes looking down at my increasingly fidgety hands.

"How's your forehead?" I ask after a moment of nervous twiddling.

"Good," he shrugs. I glance up at his face. The scar is invisible, hidden behind his curtain of smooth and sleek white hair, which looks unnaturally silver under the glow of the moon.

"Can I see it?"

He stares at me for a few seconds, as though deliberating whether to show me the wound or not, before slowly nodding once. He pulls the hair away from his eyes and leans in closer to me.

The stitches are still there, but they're fainter than they were last week.

"Looks much better already," I remark, my eyes closely fixed on the stitches. "Does it hurt at all?"

"No," his voice is low and husky, and that smouldering look is still very much in his eyes, which quickly flicker from my eyes to my lips and back. "It's kind of your fault this happened, you know," he smirks.

"My fault? That you were injured?"

He hasn't leaned back yet, so his face is still very close to mine. He shakes his head slowly, that smirk still on his lips. "That Danarius' men were able to find me in the first place," he says.

I merely stare back, completely confused. His smirk becomes more pronounced at the expression on my face.

"I never intended to stay in Kirkwall for long," he explains softly. "A few weeks, maybe a couple of months at the most. Those men would never have found me. But here I am, four months later, still very much in this city. And I have no intention of leaving," he finishes in the most seductively edgy voice I have ever heard from him yet.

I supress a shiver.

 _Is he saying what I think he's saying?_

"I… so, you're still here because…" I say slowly, knowing what his answer is going to be and not knowing at the same time.

"Because you have made it incredibly difficult for me to leave," he murmurs, "especially when you show up looking like  _this_ ," he adds with a mischievous smirk that sets my heart on fire, his eyes gliding over my body and face for emphasis.

"Well, I should dress up like this more often then, shouldn't I?" I reply with what I hope is an equally mischievous grin. I love it when he's in a playful mood. The atmosphere lightens up immediately, and I could do with some lightening up right now.

He chuckles quietly. He gazes at me for a while before he opens his mouth to say something. Right at that moment, however, the dark Orlesian host reappears with a notepad, ready to take our orders.

Neither of us has so much as glanced at the menu.

"Are you ready to order, messeres?" the man asks in a formal tone. I read the name tag on his chest: Hubert.

"Err," I glance at Fenris, who is staring at the menu on the table, but doesn't seem to be really reading it. I pick up my own menu and quickly scan through the main entrees, entirely ignoring the starters section. Thankfully, as with most extremely posh restaurants, there are only a handful of selections to choose from. Since I'm quite partial to duck, I go with the duck dish.

"I'll have the  _Canard a l'Orange_."

"An excellent choice, messere," Hubert says as he scrolls my order onto his notepad. "And for you, serah?" he asks Fenris.

I see Fenris' throat move as he gulps. I notice that the skin on his neck is on full display; no turtle neck or scarves or anything.

"I…" he pauses and looks up at Hubert. "What do you recommend, Hubert?"

"Well, for the starters-"

"Not the starters, no," Fenris cuts him off, "I'm skipping those too tonight," he briefly glances at me and I see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

"Alright," Hugo says, "For the main, I would suggest… Do you like seafood?"

Fenris wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, "I don't do seafood. Especially fish," He says the word 'fish' with an incredibly disgusted tone.

 _Maker's breath, we have something in common!_

"Ah, but that is a pity, messere," Hubert says disappointedly, "The bouillabaisse is the best dish on the menu. Always has been."

"The second best dish, then?" Fenris asks.

"That would be the  _blanquette de veau_ , messere; veal in white wine sauce."

"What do you think, Hawke?" Fenris asks me.

"Uhhh…"  _Crap! I like veal, but what if the dish sucks and he'll end up blaming me for choosing it?_  "I think that sounds good. I like veal," I shrug.

"Then veal it is," he smiles, his eyes lingering on mine before looking at Hubert.

"One  _Canard a l'Orange_  and one  _blanquette de veau_ ," Hubert repeats, "And your drinks, messeres?"

Fenris looks at me, waiting for me to order first. I completely ignore the wine list on the table. Instead, I quickly scan the drinks section in the main menu.

"I'll just have an ice tea, thanks," I say, "And can you add a lemon wedge as well?"

"Of course, messere," Hubert replies. He looks expectantly at Fenris.

"I'll…" he gazes at me with a half-smile, "I'll get the same."

"Two ice teas with lemon wedges," Hubert collects our menus from the table, "Your orders will be ready in fifteen minutes at the most."

I wait until Hubert is out of earshot before smirking at Fenris with a raised eyebrow, "Ice tea? Really, Fenris? Whatever happened to your undying love of wine?"

"I like to try new things every once in a while," he shrugs with a smile, "Keeps life interesting, don't you think? You could have gone with cranberry juice, but you didn't," he raises his dark, smooth eyebrows.

"Hmmm. Good point," I look around the interior of the restaurant and take it all in for the first time. It's so  _grand_.

"Do you usually eat here?" I ask him.

"No," he chuckles, "If I could afford eating here often, I wouldn't be living in a borrowed mansion, would I?"

"Fuuuu…" I feel really stupid right now, "Yeah. Exactly. How stupid of me."

"You're not stupid," he quickly says in a soft voice. He reaches his hand across the table and gently rests it on mine. I feel that familiar electric tingle surge through his skin into mine as soon as he makes contact. His touch is warm, and I never want to stop feeling the soft skin of his palm against the back of my hand. I look down at our hands, experiencing a rush of emotion that is foreign to me, that overwhelms me for just a moment and boils up inside me.

I look up at his eyes and see tenderness. Sweet, gentle, almost hypnotic tenderness. Neither of us says anything; we just sit there, his hand on mine, our eyes locked, isolated from the rest of the world as though in some tight, impenetrable bubble.

Except, the bubble isn't exactly impenetrable. As soon as Hubert reappears with our drinks, Fenris immediately withdraws his hand and hides it under the table, blinking rapidly as his eyes dart away from mine, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

"Two ice teas," Hubert says, placing a glass in front of each of us, "The food will be here shortly."

Even after Hubert leaves, Fenris doesn't meet my gaze. It's as though he was caught in an unguarded moment, and the sudden interruption made him put his guard up again.

I watch the moonlight play on his hair as he looks out the window.

"Fenris…" I say quietly. I see him look at me from the corner of his eye, "Is something wrong?"

He doesn't respond immediately. He keeps staring out the window, his eyes slightly narrowing as he contemplates something.

"There are things that… you should know about me, Hawke," he says is a very low voice, "Things that I haven't shared with anyone," he finally meets my gaze. The discomfort is still evident in his expression. "I'm just not sure now's the right time."

I nod, not wanting to push him to divulge anything he isn't comfortable with divulging at the moment. He scrutinises my face, but with a contemplative look; nothing tender or romantic at all.

"Tell me," he says, "Have you never wanted to return to Ferelden?"

I think about it before answering.

"I grew up in Ferelden. It will always be my home."

"The war is over. You could rebuild what you lost. Do you truly not want to?"

I shrug. "I have to admit, it's an attractive idea."

"But not now," he says. "I understand. It'll take a while for things to cool down there. Plus, your sister..." his voice trails off and he looks uncomfortable again.

"She's buried here, yeah." I finish for him. "I don't think Mother would ever return, to be honest. She's from here. Add Bethany's grave to that and the prospects of going home are close to nil. Which is fine by me. Kirkwall is my home now."

"Hmmm," that deep sound emanates from his chest, almost like a rumble. "Well, I'm glad to hear that you're not leaving," he smiles.

"Are you originally from Tevinter?" I ask after a little pause.

His expression instantly hardens. He looks away, frowning.

 _Quid pro quo. He asks me questions, so will I_.  _If only he'd stop reacting so badly to every question I throw at him_.

"I… I've been told that I am from Seheron," he replies slowly, his eyes fixed on the window.

"You've been told? Were you very young when you left, then?"

I see the muscle in his jaw twitching.

"Perhaps," he says curtly.

 _Here we go again with the one-worded answers. Okay, message understood: I can ask you questions about your past, Hawke, but you can't ask me any about mine_.

Right on cue to save the night, Hubert arrives with our dishes. When he sets mine before me, I have to stop myself from laughing.

The portions of food are  _tiny_. Miniscule. Barely enough to last more than a couple of mouthfuls.

I look up to see Fenris smirking at his own plate.

"Remind me again why we're paying a hundred plus sovereigns for two morsels of food?" I ask dryly.

He chuckles heartily, shaking his head as he continues to look at his plate. "No wonder these nobles are always a hair away from a mental breakdown," he says. "If I paid ridiculous amounts of money only to be half-starved for every day of my life, I'd go crazy too."

 _Dry. His tone is so incredibly dry. I love it_.

I laugh and take a sip from my drink before "tucking" in.

"So, what made you choose this place for tonight?" I ask after swallowing some duck. I must admit, for a tiny morsel, it sure is tasty. Maybe they make up for the size with the taste?

"I realised I never thanked you properly for your help last Tuesday night," he replies as he cuts through his veal. "Hubert, the host who's serving us tonight, is a good friend of mine. Offered me a generous discount."

"Oh."  _That kind of explains it_. " Well, discount or no, there's no way I'm letting you pay for this tonight, Fenris. You don't owe me anything. I helped you out because I…" I blush and look down at my plate. "We're friends."

He smiles as he puts down his cutlery.

"Is… that what we are?" he asks softly, resting his face on his knuckles.

I blink, my hands freezing midway through cutting up duck.

"I… I care for you, Fenris," I say softly.

His smile widens, his eyes on my cheeks. On the 'rose buds', as he called them.

"And I care for you, Marian," he whispers.

I blink rapidly and quickly busy myself with cutting up my food.

"I'm still paying tonight, though," he smirks as he resumes eating. "Friend or no, you deserve a 'thank you' for being there when I needed you."

I sigh. "If there's anyone who deserves thanking, it's Merrill and Anders. They stitched you up and saved your life; I stupidly let you go alone with that man and stood by as you nearly bled to death. See the difference?"

I expected this to bring another smile to his face, but instead, his expression sours.

 _What did I do_ **now** _?_

"I don't trust them," he says darkly. "Especially that healer. Anders," he says his name with such venom, it takes me by surprise.

"Does this have something to do with the fact that they're both in the medical profession?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Not just that," he says, his eyes narrowed, "Merrill's not just some nurse like she makes herself out to be. Didn't you see her bookshelf?"

 _Um, no, I was busy trying to make sure that you didn't bleed to death and persuading you to let Anders save your life, actually_.

I shake my head, "Her bookshelf?" I ask with bewilderment. "What about it?"

"Alchemy books. It was filled with them. Nearly every shelf."

 _Oh. Crap. Alchemy._

I stare at him.

"I…" I shake my head in disbelief, "Are you sure? Alchemy books?  _Merrill_?"

"Positive," he replies sternly. "Most of the books were identical to the ones Danarius used to have in his library."

"But… you were half unconscious with a lot of blood spilling down your forehead. Are you sure you were seeing clearly? I mean, they could've been cookery books for all we know! Art books, maybe!"

"Hawke," his voice is stern. "Trust me when I say they were Alchemy books. I've been around enough of them to know one when I see one."

 _Huh. Merrill, an alchemy enthusiast. Who would've guessed?_

"What about Anders, then?" I ask after a sip of ice tea.

His expression darkens even further.

"I… don't like the way he looks at you," he says, his eyes fixed on his plate.

I feel my eyes widen as I stare at his semi-uncomfortable, semi-angry expression.

 _Is that... jealousy I detect?_

"Why? How does he look at me?" I pretend to be completely oblivious.  _I like jealous Fenris!_

"I don't know," he shrugs, playing with the scraps of food with his fork, "He just… stares at you. In a way that people normally… shouldn't. I mean…" he pauses and looks up at me, "You're a beautiful woman, Hawke. I can't exactly fault anyone who admires your beauty. But I… I feel…" he stammers, clearly struggling with words. "I just really don't like the way that man looks at you."

 _He thinks I'm beautiful_.

 _This beautiful, ethereal creature thinks_ **I'm** _beautiful_.

 _In what world?_

"You… you think I'm beautiful?"

He chuckles lightly, "I don't need to repeat the obvious, I'm certain."

 _Obvious? My being beautiful is obvious? Seriously,_   **in. What. World**?

He smiles as he watches me, "You seem… truly surprised."

"That's because I am," I reply.

"I haven't seen much beauty in this world," he murmurs as he continues to gaze at me, "Which is why it is truly a pleasure when I finally do." He reaches over and gently brushes a lock of hair away from my eyes. "Your eyes look stunning," he whispers.

 _Maker's breath, I just wanna reach over and pull his face to mine and kiss him. So, so badly_.

"Courtesy of Isabela," I say breathlessly. I briefly close my eyes, revelling in his touch, and find him smiling at me when I open them. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches down and pulls out his phone. He pokes around the touchscreen with his index finger before holding it up to me and showing me the screen.

It's the picture he took of my eyes that morning at the docks. Saved in his phone gallery.

"Is _that_  courtesy of Isabela?" he smirks.

"Nope. That's courtesy of the sunrise," I reply honestly.

He laughs, "You're impossible," he says, shaking his head.

 **You're** _impossible. Impossibly perfect_.

"Do you want to order dessert?" he asks when he eyes my empty plate.

 _And make you spend even more money on me? Not a chance, Mister_.

"Nah, I think I'll pass," I say, patting my belly. My empty, unsatisfied, angry belly.

"I didn't know that two mouthfuls of duck can be so filling," he smirks.

"Me neither," I say sarcastically.

"Hmmm," he smiles.

 _Oh Maker. I want to rest my head on his chest and feel the vibrations of that 'hmmm' of his!_

"Well, if you're not having dessert, neither am I," he says as he stretches his arms.

"Don't let me hold you back."

"I think I can live without a miniscule portion of crêpe Suzette," he jokes with that tantalising half-smile.

We finish our ice tea and call for the bill. When we get it, I pester him to let me see it, but he doesn't, laughing as he holds it beyond my reach when I attempt to grab it from his hand.

"I hate you a little bit right now, you know?" I say as we take our coats and walk out of the restaurant together.

"I'm sure you do," he smiles, throwing the scarf around his neck over his shoulder. His scent wafts towards me from the movement; a musky scent with a hint of eau de cologne. Always the same. It's so familiar, it makes me smile.

"Where'd you park your car?" he asks as we quietly leave Sovereign Avenue.

"Close to the Viscount's Keep. You don't have to walk me there. Your place is at the opposite end of town."

"I want to," he says with the softest voice.  _Butterflies, butterflies, never-ending butterflies_.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out. When he slides his finger across the screen to unlock it, I nearly freeze.

His phone's wallpaper is that very same picture of my eyes at the docks. It's been zoomed in on a bit, the electric blue of my irises dominating the background.

I bite my lower lip and look away to hide my smile. My phone's wallpaper is the picture of his eye that I snapped that very morning. And mine is zoomed in too, to exemplify the golden, fiery green of his irises.  _What a cheesy and pleasant coincidence!_

I feel like giggling, which makes me feel sort of stupid because I'm acting like a little teenager right now.

" _Venhedis_ ," he mutters under his breath.

"Something wrong?" I ask when I see the frustrated expression on his face.

"It's nothing," he says, locking his phone and stowing it back in his pocket, "Just some minor lodging issues. The mansion I'm staying at isn't in the best condition and the neighbours are starting to notice that someone other than the owner is staying in it. One of my contacts just informed me of the most recent complaint. Says the police may be called in to investigate."

"Crap! What're you going to do?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "Stupid nobles can complain as much as they like. No one's used that mansion for years. Plus, I'm on good terms with the Captain."

"Captain Aveline?"

He nods, "A good woman. Keeps patrols away."

"She's the one who stopped the hooligans who vandalised my car. Scared them shitless."

"She has a gift with that," he smirks.

I laugh as we ascend a flight of stairs and reach the Chantry Courtyard. We both stop short in our tracks when we hear the loud sound of a man swearing.

" _Get your fucking hands off me, you bastard! Get off!_ "

" _Shut the hell up before I have you handcuffed!_ " another deeper male voice commands.

" _Who the fuck do you think you are? You're just a worthless-_ "

The swearing man yells out in pain as the other man, who I can now see is a policeman, slams him against the Chanter's Board, holding his arms tightly behind his back. His face gets pushed against the board, forced to face where Fenris and I are standing.

"Ow! You fucking bastard! What do you think you're-" He stops yelling midway when he spots us, "Marian?" he calls out incredulously. "Is that you?"

 _No. Fucking. Way._

" _Anders?_ "


	17. Chapter 17

All roads lead to the Hanged Man.

Seriously, it's the one place everyone goes to when they need a problem solved. Broke up with a lover? Go to the Hanged Man. Found out a lover's been cheating on you? Go to the Hanged Man. Got fired from a job? Go to the Hanged Man. Need to get laid? Go to the- well, no, that's actually what the  _Blooming Rose_  is here for, so scratch that out.

Peed on the Chantry and vandalised it with spray paint while under the influence of alcohol? Go to Hanged Man.

Yeah… that's  _exactly_  what Anders did.

Turns out that the policeman who apprehended him is Aveline's husband, Donnic, who also happens to be Fenris' good friend. After a little persuasion and ass-kissing, we were able to convince Donnic to let Anders off the hook. And so, here we are in my car, heading off to the Hanged Man. Fenris, who insisted on accompanying me, is in the passenger seat, his nose wrinkled from the reeking smell of cheap ale and paint wafting from the backseat, where a snoring Anders is slumped.

"Remind me again why we're helping him?" Fenris asks when a particularly loud snore erupts from Anders' throat.

"Because we owe him," I say simply, "He saved your life, Fenris."

Fenris grumbles something in a foreign language and scowls as he looks out the passenger window.

 _He's so adorable when he's grumpy_.

" _I_  owe him, Hawke.  _You_  don't," he quietly says.

"Oh, I do. He saved my life too. Gave me directions and a map of the Underground when I was trying to get to Sundermount a while ago. If it weren't for him, I'd probably still be lost there, all alone in the deep, dark Underground."

This earns me an exaggerated eye-roll from him, but no retort.

Once we arrive at the Hanged Man (which is unsurprisingly packed), Fenris and I support a partially passed out Anders up the stairs and right into Varric's suite. We place his limp form on Varric's King size bed.

"What happened to Blondie?" Varric asks, raising an eyebrow at Anders' slumped figure.

"Oh, you know, peed on the Chantry walls and spray painted profanities on them," I say in a matter-of-fact tone as I throw myself onto a chair. Fenris quietly sits on the chair next to me.

"He did  _what_?" Varric asks incredulously, nearly choking on his whisky.

"I'm serious," I laugh, "He got himself drunk and vandalised the Chantry walls with spray paint and urine. We had to beg a policeman not to arrest him."

I see Fenris look down and smirk from the corner of my eye.

" _Andraste's ass_ , Anders!" Varric exclaims, setting his glass of whisky down on the table and staring at Anders with wide, incredulous eyes, "What in Thedas made him do  _that_?"

"That's what we'd like to know," I reply.

"Huh," Varric glances at the huge, gold Rolex watch on his wrist, "It's only ten. Think he'll sleep it off till the morning? I don't know if I can wait that long to find out."

"We could always throw ice water on him and see if he wakes up," Fenris suggests dryly. I laugh out loud like a lunatic, even though it isn't even that funny.

"That's actually not a bad idea," Varric smirks, "There's no way I'm letting him sleep in here for the rest of the night. I don't usually like sharing my bed with drunken, passed out men."

Then, as if he heard us, Anders suddenly yells out " _Don't touch Ser Pounce-a-lot!_ " and sits bolt upright, panting and looking around with a look of utmost confusion.

"Hawke?" he narrows his amber eyes at me, looking utterly lost, "Varric?"

"Welcome back, kiddo," Varric says.

"What-" Anders swings his feet off the bed, sits on its edge and rubs his eyes, "Where… How did I get here?"

"You seriously don't remember a thing?" I ask with a quirked eyebrow.

"I…" he shakes his head and stares at his hands on his lap, "I remember a police officer yelling at me…and, I remember seeing you, Marian," he looks up at me and smiles weakly.

I feel Fenris tense in his seat beside me. I swiftly glance at his face and see a thoroughly sour expression on it.

"You don't remember anything else?" I quickly ask, trying to divert Anders' attention from… well…  _me_.

"No-" He stops and sniffs the air, "Why do I smell like paint?"

"That's not all you smell of," Fenris mutters darkly.

"Look, Blondie," Varric places his elbows on the table and rests his face on his interlocked hands, "There's no other way of saying this, so I'm just going to go ahead and say it; Hawke and Fenris here saved you from being arrested for pissing on the Chantry." He says all of this in a light, conversational tone.

And the  _look_  on Anders' face!

 _Oh, Varric_.

"Don't forget the spray-painted obscenities," Fenris adds, "' _Fuck Andraste!_ ' and ' _The Divine can suck my_ -"

"All right, all right!" Anders yells. He's on his feet, glaring at Fenris with eyes that look nearly insane. Fenris raises his eyebrows at him, but says nothing more. And Maker, does he look  _satisfied_.

"Hey now, Blondie," Varric walks over to where Anders is standing, his chest heaving in anger, his eyes still glaring at Fenris, "Calm down. Do you want some water? Something to eat?"

Anders squeezes his eyes and shakes his head, "Yeah. Yeah, I could do with some food, Varric."

"Excellent," Varric smiles. It's amazing what that dwarf's gentle voice alone could do. Maker knows the number of times it's calmed me down. "I'll call Norah up to fetch us some dinner."

Fenris and I look at each other and smirk.  _We_  could really do with some food too.

As Varric sits back down and calls the downstairs bar, Anders walks over to the table and takes the seat facing mine.

"So," he smiles, his kind eyes looking tired, "saved by the Hawke, eh? If it weren't for you, I'd probably be sitting in a prison cell right now."

"Actually, it was all thanks to Fenris," I smile, "He's good friends with the officer who umm… caught you in the act."

"Of pissing and painting," Fenris adds with the most mischievous smirk.

Anders' jaw stiffens, but other than that, he completely ignores Fenris' remark.

"So, you really don't remember anything other than Officer Donnic?" I ask.

"Is that his name?" Anders asks darkly. He shakes his head in disgust and stares at the marble table, "Things are starting to come back to me," he says quietly. "I remember feeling incredibly angry… I remember buying the spray-paint. I even remember getting drunk. But I don't remember anything involved with pissing," he adds, briefly glaring at Fenris before looking back down at the table, "Although, I can't say the thought has never occurred to me. Blasted Chantry," he mutters darkly.

"Why vandalise the Chantry?" I ask.

"Because it's fucking ridiculous," he says, disgust etched on his tired face, "It's so backward and oppressive and downright ridiculous. It's taken everything away from me; my freedom, my family. And now, my friends."

"Your freedom and your family? I thought you couldn't see your family because of that medical boarding school you went to in Ferelden."

"That's only part of it," he replies darkly, "Why do you think my family's never visited me at my school, never asked after me and never allowed me to visit them?"

"They did that?" I gasp, "I thought the school never gave you an opportunity to visit them!"

"Shouldn't have stopped them from visiting me," he quietly says. He remains silent for a while, his eyes deep in thought. "My family was deeply religious," he explains, "believed in the Maker, went to the Chantry every Sunday, said grace before each and every meal. Everything they did was to please the Maker and his prophet Andraste. Everything. Including casting off their only son."

"They cast you off?" I gasp, "Why?"

"Because I chose science over religion," he explains, "You should have seen the look on my parents' faces when I came home from school one day and told them that creationism is a load of bull. I remember that day well… I was in the fourth grade, and we'd just learned about the theory of evolution. It all changed that day. As soon as it was explained to me, everything sort of just clicked. Religion never made sense to me ever since. Science is all about hard evidence and facts. Religion is all about faith and the supernatural. To me, it was clear very early on which one to choose."

"The two can co-exist," I say. I believe in the Maker, so maybe I'm a bit biased here, but I don't think that Anders is being particularly fair about religion.

"I don't know about that," Anders grimaces, "Especially if Chantry zealots keep insisting that the theory of evolution is crap and that the Maker created the world in seven days."

"We're not all zealots, Anders," I say a little defensively.

"So, you don't believe in the Maker?" Fenris asks. So far, he'd merely been quietly listening to our little exchange, so Anders looks a little surprised at Fenris' sudden participation. I, on the other hand, feel a chill go down my spine and smile to myself at hearing his voice so suddenly and so close to me.

"I… I believe in a higher power," Anders slowly replies, "Whether it's called 'the Maker' or not is beyond me, but I use that term because I'm just used to it," He pauses as he studies Fenris for a moment, "Do  _you_  believe in the Maker?" he asks.

"I do," Fenris replies sternly.

"All this talk about the Maker and religion!" Varric interjects, "it's hurting my head! You kids need to loosen up and have some fun, not delve head-first into the most controversial topic known to man!"

"Where's the food?" I ask, grinning at Fenris as I rub my tummy, "We're starving!"

"That's a good question," Varric murmurs. Just as he pulls out his phone to ring downstairs, his suite door bursts open.

"Useless, drunken tart!" Isabela curses, holding a tray in her hands and looking extremely angry, "I don't even know how you keep her employed, Varric!" She stomps towards our table and nearly slams the food tray onto it. I notice a huge wine stain down the front of her white (and extremely short) dress.

"Keep who employed, Bela?" Varric asks calmly.

"That Norah wench! She's as drunk as a fucking sailor! Spilled an entire bottle of wine down my front, and I'm wearing  _white_ , Varric!  _White_!" She looks down the front of her dress and yells out in frustration.

"What kind of wine was it?" Fenris asks.  _Him and his wine fetish_.

"The Agreggio you-" Isabela stops short when she sees us, "Fenris? Marian?" her eyes go wide when she spots the two of us sitting side by side. "I thought you were… Marian, you told me you-" she splutters, surprise and confusion replacing the intense frown that was on her face.

"Thought we could get some real food down here," I grin.

She looks at the two of us with a quirked eyebrow, "I thought you two were going out for dinner," she says.

' _You two'. Maker, how I love the sound of that_.

"We did," I reply, "The miniscule portions were way too… miniscule." I see Fenris' shoulders shake as he silently chuckles.

"Huh," She throws me a look that clearly says 'you'd better have a very good reason why you and that sexy wolf are not drilling each other into a mattress right now' before her honey-brown eyes slide over to Anders, who is already wolfing down a turkey sandwich.

"And you're here too, Anders! Why wasn't I invited to this little party?" she asks, feigning hurt.

"It was a…" Varric smirks at Anders, who is glaring at Varric and very subtly shaking his head, warning him not to tell Isabela anything about his uhh… peeing escapades, "a spur of the moment kind of thing. Totally unexpected."

"Sure," She glances at Fenris and winks at me, "Well, I'd better change and get back to Merrill before she annihilates the entire lounge with her clumsiness. Let me know if you lot need anything," she smiles at us and heads towards the door, "Oh, and Norah broke two glasses and a plate in addition to spilling an entire bottle of Agreggio, Varric. You'll want to deal with her. It's really getting ridiculous," she adds, shaking her head in disgust.

"I'll talk to her," Varric says after gulping down a mouthful of stuffed vine leaves.

"Thanks." We all watch as she shuts the door behind her. Anders lets out a loud sigh of relief.

"Phew!" he says, "I thought you were going to tell her!"

"Relax, Blondie, no one's gonna find out," Varric assures him, "Your urinating secret is safe with us. Right, you two?" he asks Fenris and I.

 _Safe with us, sure, but with a mouth like yours, Varric? I doubt it_.

"Of course," I smile. Fenris merely nods once.

"See? Nothing to worry about," Varric smiles.

I jump slightly when something warm brush against my knee. I look down and see Fenris' own knee touching mine. I supress the urge to place my hand on his thigh because something tells me he won't be too comfortable with that, so I fantasise about doing that instead.

"You guys look all dressed up," Varric remarks as he eyes first me then Fenris, "Where were you before Blondie here decided to go wacko?"

Anders rolls his eyes but otherwise ignores Varric, instead focusing on the two people sitting across from him.

"We were…" I gulp, glancing sideways at Fenris, who is calmly watching me, his knee warm against mine, "We were out for dinner."

"A date, huh?" Varric grins devilishly. Anders sits up straight, completely disregarding the half-eaten sandwich in his hands.

I feel myself blush and look down at my interlocked hands.

"A date?" Anders asks after a brief pause, "You… you're dating him, Marian?"

"She is," Fenris says sternly, his steely eyes fixed on Anders' shocked face.

"Oh," Anders slowly puts his sandwich down and looks away from us, disappointment so clearly etched on his face. I actually feel a pang of guilt when I see just how disappointed he looks.

Varric, sensing the intense awkwardness creeping into the atmosphere, very quickly changes the subject, "So, what exactly triggered tonight's outburst, Blondie?"

Anders continues to stare down at the table, seemingly oblivious to Varric's question.

"Hey! Blondie!" Varric nudges Anders in the ribs.

"What?" he finally looks up, though his eyes are still averting mine.

"I just asked you what made you lose it tonight," Varric says.

"Oh," Anders looks back down at the table, "A good friend of mine, Karl, ditched his job as a paediatrician to devote himself to the service of the Chantry and the Maker a couple of weeks ago. I went to see him at the Chantry this evening. The look on his face and the way he talked just… it freaked me out. He was so calm, so bland, so…  _tranquil_. Like he's this empty shell with no emotion. Called me a heretic for trying to talk him out of that shit and told me to never try to contact or see him again." The expression on his face darkens, "As if it wasn't enough for me to lose my family to the Chantry. Now, I've lost my best friend to it."

 _Clearly not the right topic to use as a diversion, Varric_.

I clear my throat and stand up. Fenris lifts his hand up and touches my waist, which sends an intense shiver down my spine. I'm pretty sure he felt it, because I see that familiar half-smile of his forming on his lips. Lips that I want to kiss. So, so  _badly_.

"Where're you going?" he asks quietly, his green eyes glittering under the crystal chandelier (yes, Varric has certainly gone out of his way with the renovations for the place).

"Bathroom," I smile down at him. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Anders watching us closely.

"Okay," he smiles back, his hand lingering on my waist before he slowly moves it away. His eyes stare into mine, warm and gentle, and I suddenly don't want to go to the bathroom anymore.

But, unless I'm okay with peeing in my panties and pulling off an Anders, I really  _should_  go.

I turn towards the door and leave the suite, feeling a little light-headed. Seriously, for someone so opposed to Alchemy and all things magical, he sure has cast a spell on me. A powerful, magnetic and hypnotising one at that.

As soon as I step out of the bathroom, Isabela is right at my face, grinning like a mad woman.

"Well? How'd it go? And what the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be making mad love right now! I didn't think he'd be able to resist you, looking all dolled up like this!"

I roll my eyes and smile at her excitement, "He's not like other men, Bela. He… he's different."

"Different? You mean, he's into  _men_? Oh, that'd be  _hot_ , kitten! Gay men are always hot!"

"No, it's not that," I sigh. I'm feeling very tired all of a sudden. "He's just not like other men. He doesn't jump at the first opportunity to 'make mad love', as you put it. We're taking it… slow. Very slow. And I like that. It's a very comfortable pace for me."

"But, how can you both be so  _patient_? The two of you are so ridiculously irresistible, I'd do you both if I could!" I raise an eyebrow at her, which causes her to smile and quickly say, "I'm only joking, kitten. All I'm trying to say is: the sexual tension between you two is just…  _ugh_! It's just so  _frustrating_! He wants you, kitten, and he wants you  _bad_. Trust me when I tell you this. He has eyes for you and only you. He couldn't look anywhere else the entire time in Varric's suite!"

" _Really_?"

"Yes! Don't tell me you haven't noticed! It's written all over his freaking sexy face! What are you doing now? Are you leaving soon?"

"I… I don't know," I say slowly, "I think so."

"And are you dropping him back in Hightown?" her eyes are wide, and I can guess only too well what she has in mind.

"If he lets me, yes," I reply.

"Of course he'll let you, what are you talking about? And when you do, he'll invite you in. I just  _know_  he will. There's no way in Thedas he doesn't want you with him, in his bed, right  _now_."

I stare at her, unsure of what to say. Heck, I'm unsure of what to  _think_. Do I want him to want me in his bed? Do  _I_  want to be in his bed?

 _Of course you want to be in his bed, Hawke! Just… not now_.

It's too soon. I'm not ready for that.

I smile and kiss Isabela on the cheek, "We'll see what happens, Izzy. I'm in no rush."

She rolls her eyes, "Of course you're not. You're Marian. The prude."

"You know me so well," I grin.

"You bet I do," she smiles affectionately, stroking the hair out of my eyes and planting a kiss on my cheek. "Do what makes you happy, kitten. If waiting for a gazillion years does that, then, by all means, wait. He seems like the kind of guy who'll stick around."

I smile at that, "Thanks, Izzy. You're a great friend, you know that?"

"Only when I want to be," she winks. "Now, go on. Go back to your man, beautiful. It's cruel to keep him waiting."

"I'll see you soon, Izzy," I say as I start to head back to the suite, "And say hello to Merrill for me. Did you know she's a nurse?"

"Yeah, it's her day job," Isabela shrugs. "Kinda strange for clumsy Merrill to be a nurse, of all things, but there you have it."

I laugh and wave at her before making my way back to the suite.

When I open the door, I see Varric and Anders laughing manically at some joke I missed, while Fenris is quietly seated cross-legged, his arm draped across the back of my empty chair. He looks up at me as soon as he hears the door open, and I see a smile instantly spread across his beautiful face; a smile that makes me forget every care, every problem and every worry in my life.

"Hey," I smile at him as I quickly slide back into my seat.

"Hey," he replies in a voice so soft, it makes my bones melt, "I was beginning to think you ran off," he smirks.

"I was halfway home when I realised I couldn't just leave you here," I glance at Varric and Anders, who are now both positively red in the face, "I'm not  _that_  cruel."

"I'm very grateful," he grins. I feel the warmth of his arm against my back. The arm he had draped across the back of my chair.  _The arm he so very clearly did not move away as soon as I reclaimed my seat_. He caresses my shoulder with his fingers. His touch makes me shiver involuntarily.

"These guys look happy enough," I murmur as I watch Anders and Varric down a vodka shot, "Wanna leave?"

Fenris nods slowly and we both stand up, the loud sound of our chairs scraping against the floor gaining Varric and Anders' attention.

"What, leaving already, love birds?" Varric slurs.

"Yeah, calling it a night. You boys have fun." The two of us turn towards the door.

"Wait, Hawke," Anders says. Fenris pauses with his hand on the door knob and frowns.

"Yes, Anders?"

"I…" he looks and sounds decidedly less drunk that he was only a second ago, "Thank you. For tonight. Really, I don't know what I would've done without your help."

"Fenris helped too, Anders," I remind him.

"No, Hawke," Fenris abruptly says, "I only ' _helped_ ' because you needed me to. I didn't do it for him."

"What a cheery fellow you're dating there, Hawke," Anders comments with steely sarcasm. "This is what I get for saving your life, eh?"

I see Fenris clench his jaw, "Believe me, healer, if it weren't for Hawke, I wouldn't have let you come anywhere near me."

"I'm starting to regret coming anywhere near you," Anders responds, "Should've spared myself the trouble and just let you bleed to death."

Fenris spins around, facing Anders, his eyes glaring menacingly.

"Fenris, please," I whisper, "Let it go. He's drunk." I place my hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.

He glares at Anders before turning back to the door and, much to my relief, opens it and allows me to gently push him into the hallway. I hear Varric calming Anders down before the door shuts behind us.

"He's drunk, Fenris," I tell him soothingly, "He has no idea what he's saying."

"He can go to fucking hell," he snarls.

Without really thinking about it, I raise my hand up to his face and brush a lock of white hair away from his eyes. He blinks a couple of times, staring at me.

"Let's… let's just leave, Hawke," he says in a softer tone.

On our way out, I see Merrill come out of the storage room behind the main bar with a large crate in her arms. Before she sees us, I quickly block Fenris from her view and turn my face away from her, rushing out of the tavern towards my car.

The last thing we need right now is a run-in with an Alchemist-in-training.


	18. Chapter 18

"Do you want to come inside?"

I stare at my hands, gripping the steering wheel.

 _Oh my gosh, he's inviting me into his house! At 11:30 pm_!

"Uhh, yeah," I say in an extremely (and deliberately) controlled, calm voice, "Sure."

He's staring straight ahead through the windshield, but I see the corner of his mouth twitch as he smiles.

I'm gripping the steering wheel as though holding on to it for dear life. My heart is already racing in my chest, and I can feel my throat going dry.

It's quiet in the car. Too quiet. Quiet to the extent that I'm worried he can hear the sound of my heart drumming. In fact, I'm almost sure he can hear it.

As though he read my mind, he reaches towards the dashboard and turns on the radio. A very boring and irritating country song is on.

"You can plug in your iPhone if you like," I tell him, "I've got an auxiliary input."

"Hmmm. Yeah, I'll do that."

My eyes flit between the road and him as he reaches for his pocket, pulls out his phone and connects it to the auxiliary cable.

"What do you feel like?"

"Huh?"

I feel like a lot of things. _I feel like having your arms wrapped around me, holding me close. I feel like listening to you whisper into my ear, telling me things. Sweet things. I feel like hearing your even breathing and feeling the vibrations emanating from your chest as you speak_.

 _Maker, I'm RIDICULOUS_.

He smiles, "What music do you feel like listening to?"

"Oh."  _Oh Maker, not the blushing again!_  "Anything," I shrug, "Whatever you want."

"Hmmm,"  _That voice! Maker, help me!_ "Do you like Radiohead?"

"I love Radiohead!"

"Yeah, they're great, aren't they?" he smiles as he scrolls through his playlist. He settles on  _House of Cards_.

"I love this song," I smile. It's already relaxing me a bit, which is a good thing, because overly-nervous Hawke is never good.

"Yeah…" he says softly. He rests his head against the head rest, his eyes closed, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

We spend the rest of the drive in silence, listening to Sting and Bon Iver (yes, he loves Bon Iver too).

All the jitters that the soothing music kept at bay came crashing down on me with ruthless force the moment I see Fenris' mansion in the distance. By the time I park in front of it, my hands are positively shaking on the wheel.

I wait as he unplugs his phone from the auxiliary. Watching his long, slender, dextrous fingers move is akin to being hypnotised.

 _Hypnotised? Okay, now you're going too far with this, Hawke_.

I pull the keys out the ignition with shaky hands and open my door, the sharp, cold night wind stinging my face.

 _Well, at least I can blame the cold if he notices my shivering_.

I lock my car and follow him to the front door.

When he unlocks it, he looks at me, studying my face for the briefest moment. I smile at him to assure him that I'm fine with this because I  _am_ fine with this. Really fine. Just an extremely nervous, uncontrollably trembling kind of fine.

Upon seeing my smile, his eyes glide back to the door knob, which he stares at for a fraction of a second before opening the door. He steps aside to let me enter first.

It's quite dark, the moonlight shining through a large square skylight the only source of light in the hall. It's enough light, however, to show just how  _large_  the entrance hall is. It's literally gigantic; larger than any home I've ever been in, and it amazes me. Suddenly, my thoughts flit back to the day I took Fenris to Gamlen's place and I feel such an intense and hot rush of embarrassment flood through me.

I live in a mouse hole compared to this.

"This is…  _amazing_ ," I say, my eyes wide in the dark as they take in the grandness of it all. I hear Fenris lock the door behind us before he walks to my side, surveying the hall as well.

"It is, isn't it?" he says quietly, "Too bad it isn't legally mine."

I turn to see him smirking, the markings on his face a ghostly blue under the moonlight.

"C'mon, let's get to a fireplace. You're shivering," he remarks. He starts walking towards a grand staircase and I quickly follow him, feeling a little uncomfortable from the huge, empty, darkness of the hall.

As we make our way across the hall, I notice how worn out the mansion is. It's clean and very orderly, and I wouldn't expect any less from Fenris, but it definitely is in need of some upkeep. I also notice the paintings on the wall. They're all very…  _macabre_ ; stunning yet gruesome portraits of what appear to be corpses and funerals and weeping women. One of them, depicting a woman holding up the severed and bloodied head of a man with blank, staring eyes, is exceptionally disturbing. I shudder, and not from jitters this time, and quicken my pace to catch up with Fenris.

He leads me up the staircase and into a room right in the centre of the second floor.

His bedroom.

 _I'm in his freaking BEDROOM_.

Well, at first glance, it doesn't look like a bedroom; it's got a large table close to the entrance with a couple of wine bottles on it and two chairs, a fireplace with a crackling fire merrily burning in it, with two wooden benches facing it, and a queen size bed in the far left corner of the room, illuminated by yet another skylight right above it. His laptop is propped open on the table, and there are a few crumpled pieces of paper next to it. From the looks of things, this is the only room he uses.

 _Am I okay with being in his bedroom?_

 _Crap. No. No, I'm not okay_   _with that_.

He throws his keys on a wooden table and looks at me.

"Hey," he says gently, "You okay?"

 _My face is SUCH a freaking open book_.  _Why can't I be stoic like him?_

"Uhh…" I shrug and try to look comfortable, "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You look… a little uncomfortable," he remarks.

"No! No, I'm not!" I stutter. I was always such a terrible liar. He smiles and shrugs out of his coat, which he hangs on a chair's back. He then walks over to me and stands behind me, taking my coat off.

 _Why does everyone insist on taking my coat off? I'm very comfortable in that coat, thank you very much_.

"You're very tense," he observes, still standing behind me.

I roll my shoulders and turn to face him, "I'm fine," I say. His expression clearly says that he doesn't buy it. "It's just…" I look down at my shoes as I think of a way to explain this to him, "I don't think I'm ready for…" I gulp and meet his gaze, which is penetrating and intense.

 _Maker, how do I say this?_

"I'm just not-"

"Marian," without looking away from me, he places my coat on another chair before moving closer to me, "We don't have to do anything. I don't think I'm ready for that either," he smiles, stroking my hair, "I just… I like being around you."

"I like being around you too," I murmur, drowning in the moss-green sea of his eyes.

"We'll just talk," he says gently, his hand now stroking my cheek. "Nothing more."

"Okay," I close my eyes and inhale, pulling myself together.  _There's no reason to be nervous, Hawke. This is Fenris; taciturn, incredibly well-mannered Fenris_.

"Would you like something to drink? I've got your favourite," he grins.

I blink. "What, cranberry juice?"

He nods, his grin widening, "I've taken quite a liking to it."

"And here I thought you were Agreggio for life!"

"Agreggio's good," he murmurs, his voice soft enough to melt me on the spot, "but sometimes, I could really do with some cranberry." He smiles and gazes into my eyes for a brief moment, before moving in and touching his lips to mine. I instantly wrap my arms around his neck and hold him close, the sound of my heartbeat drumming in my ears.

When our lips part, he rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, his breathing quick and shallow.

"I thought we were just going to talk," I smirk, "Nothing more."

"Allow me this one deviation."

"Just one?" I ask playfully.

He grins and leans in to kiss me again. "As many as you like," he whispers.

 _My heart. Maker, my HEART_.

He pulls back and heads towards the door, "I'll be right back," he smiles, "Gonna get us some drinks."

I smile back and nod, feeling lightheaded and giddy.

Whatever it is I've done that made me this lucky, I'm glad I did it. I am so fucking  _glad_. I'm so glad, I could just cry right now. Isn't that retarded? Crying because the object of my desire miraculously desires me back?

I move towards the benches by the fireplace and sit on one, staring at the dancing flames as my body absorbs their warmth. I glance around the room, taking in details I hadn't noticed when we first arrived. His closet door is open, revealing a collection of clothes hanging on hangers arranged in order of colour. I notice that all of his clothes are dark, the vast majority of them ranging from black to charcoal grey. The lightest colour is a pale grey, and I can only see a couple of shirts in that colour. On the closet's floor, I see an assortment of shoes lined up, all polished and glinting under the moonlight.

 _That's two more things we have in common: we both adore black and we're both excessively tidy and organised_.  _Wait, is that a good thing? Don't people say that opposites attract? Oh no…_

When I look away from the closet, something dark and glinting at the opposite end of the room catches my eye. It's entirely hidden in shadow, so I can't make out what it is from my seat by the fireplace. My curiosity getting the better of me, I get up and walk towards it, a surprised "Oh!" escaping my lips when I see what the glinting, polished object is.

A mini grand piano.

 _He plays the piano_.

 _Maker's breath, that is so fucking hot_.

"Hawke?"

I jump at the sudden sound of his voice. I look up from the impeccably clean and shiny keys to find Fenris at the doorway, a bottle of cranberry juice and a glass in one hand, and a bottle of Agreggio and a second glass in the other.

"Hey! I didn't hear you coming."

"Fascinated by the piano, I see," he smiles, heading over to the wooden table and placing the bottles and glasses on it.

"I didn't know you play," I say as I join him at the table.

"You never asked," he shrugs.

"Hmmm. Fair enough," I smile. I sit on one of the yellow and red patterned chairs and watch as he pours some cranberry juice into a glass.

"Thank you," I say when he sets the glass before me. "Can't stay away from the Agreggio, can you?" I smile as I watch him pour the wine into his glass.

He laughs, "Never for too long."

 _That laugh._ I can't function properly when I hear it.

He sits on the chair facing me, and I feel a jolt when his knees brush against mine.

"So. How long have you been playing?" I still can't get over the fact that he plays an instrument.

"I… I don't know," he says after a sip of wine, frowning a little, "I don't really remember. I was quite young when I first started, I guess." He swirls the contents of his glass, his eyes fixed on the swirling red liquid. "Do you play an instrument?" he asks after a pause.

I nod, "The guitar and a bit of the piano. Just a little bit though, nothing too fancy."

"The guitar," he smiles and shakes his head, "I could never figure out how to play it for the life of me."

"Really? How come?"

"I'm self-taught," he explains, "Guitar's not the easiest instrument to learn all on your own. I play completely by ear. Never had a single music lesson in my entire-" he pauses and frowns again, "In my life," he finishes in a low voice.

I notice that the topic, as harmless as it seems to me, causes him discomfort, so I drop it immediately. I sip on my cranberry juice purely for something to do.

"Would you like ice with that?" he asks, "I got it out of the fridge, but if it isn't cold enough…"

"It's perfect," I smile, "Thank you."

That divine half-smile forms on his full lips, his silver-white hair completely concealing his right eye.

 _I can't think. I can't breathe. Maker, I can't even blink!_

 _Stop staring, Hawke!_

I nervously clear my throat and focus my gaze on the wallpaper of his laptop.

"You like Renaissance art?" I ask when I see the beautiful painting of Botticelli's  _Primavera_.

"It's my favourite," he says, looking at the picture as well.

"Mine too," I murmur. His eyes flicker to mine and the look I see in them makes my heart swell with emotion.

"Play me something," I blurt out.

 _Mouth! What the? Stop blurting!_

To my intense relief, he doesn't refuse. His smile becomes more pronounced and he stands up slowly, his eyes still fixed on mine. He then makes his way to the black, impeccably polished mini grand piano.

And then, he starts to play.

And Maker, does he  _know_  how to  _play_.

I get up and approach him, mesmerised by the combination of Fenris and a piano.

Fenris playing the piano has got to be the sexiest thing I have ever seen. He's focused, yet calm and relaxed, his fingers effortlessly flying across the keys as he plays a beautiful and intricate piece that sounds very familiar to me.

"Yann Tiersen?" I ask, standing beside him and watching his long, slender, piano-player fingers flit across the keyboard. He looks up at me with a faint smile and nods, still managing to play the piece impeccably without looking at the keys.

" _Comptine d'un autre été l'après midi_ ," he says in a flawless French accent that makes my bones turn to marshmallows.

"From  _Amelie_ ," I nod, mesmerised by the speed of his fingers, "I love that movie."

I notice that there is no music sheet before him.

"You weren't kidding when you said you play solely by ear," I remark with admiration, "I mean, no music sheet! That's amazing!"

He looks up at me when he finishes the piece and shrugs, "I never use music sheets. I don't really need them. That and…" he looks down at the keys, his tone hesitant, "I… I can't read."

"That makes two of us," I say, "Music notes are incredibly difficult to learn. Maker knows I've tried. Which is why I stick to the guitar. It's all numbers."

"No," he shakes his head, his eyes still looking down at the keys, "It's not just that. I'm…" he looks up at me, "I'm dyslexic."

 _Oh_.

It all suddenly makes sense; why he didn't read the menu at  _Vincento's_ and  _Fleur D'Orlais_. He… he can't read. Well, he can  _read_ , just not… easily, I guess? I don't know! I'm not an expert at these things. All I know is that dyslexics read words backwards or something.

He's quiet, his gaze focused on the keys again.

I should say something.

 _What do I say?_

 _Brain, what do I say?_

 _Oh, so now you're speechless? You're so brilliant at blurting out random shit and now, you're rendered speechless_.

 _Idiot_.

I smile and, in an act of great audacity, sit down next to him on the leather piano bench, "That's no big deal. You can always get help with that. It's not too severe, is it?"

He looks at me, his face very close to mine, "In all my time with Danarius, I was never allowed to get help. He prevented me from enlisting in special classes when I talked to him about it when I was younger. Told me reading would never be any use to me, slave that I was."

My heart literally hurts when he says that word. That 'S' word. I can't imagine someone so brilliant and intelligent and talented and  _amazing_  being treated as a slave. Heck, I can't imagine  _anyone_  being treated as a slave. As property to be used and abused at the master's whim. The very thought makes me sick to my stomach.

"It's not too late to learn, Fenris," I smile.

"Isn't it?" he asks, sceptical, though he has a smile on his face, "Sometimes I wonder. I'm not completely hopeless; I can read if I really, really focus. Plus, I've been reading specialised books these past three years. Though, something tells me a dyslexic teaching himself how to read properly isn't the best solution."

"I can help," I offer.

"You'd waste your precious time teaching me how to read?" he asks with a quirked eyebrow.

"I'd be spending my time helping you  _improve_  your reading," I correct him, "Dyslexia doesn't equate to illiteracy, Fenris. And spending time with you is never a waste," I add softly.

He half-smiles and leans in to kiss me, closing his eyes as he does so.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his lips still touching mine. I'm like, literally on the verge of passing out.

"Play me something else," I whisper, my eyes still closed. I feel his lips pull up in a smile before he lightly kisses me again and pulls away.

"Any particular requests?" he asks.

"Can you play Mozart?"

He nods and places his lyrium-tattooed fingers on the keys. He starts playing a slow, melancholic tune that I immediately recognise as one of my personal favourites.

"Piano Concerto Number 23!" I exclaim, "That's my favourite piece by Mozart!" I pause and think of another composer. "Can you do Beethoven?"

He smiles and starts playing a beautifully haunting piece that I once again immediately recognise.

" _Moonlight Sonata_ ," we say simultaneously.

"Chopin?"

Another smile and another effortless transition into  _Nocturne in G minor_.

 _No way_.

"Wow, Fenris.  _Wow_ ," I am seriously in awe. My mouth is hanging open and everything, "You're brilliant. You are so damn  _brilliant_. It's as though I'm hearing the original composers playing! This is…" I shake my head in awe and disbelief, "This is  _incredible_."

"Music is what kept me sane all those years I spent with Danarius," he says. "Whenever he was out, I'd sneak into the piano room, sit at the grand piano he had there, and play."

"Were you ever caught?" I ask.

"Once," he grimaces. "Danarius denied me my meals for three days as punishment. I never played that piano again after that day."

"What an asshole," I say with disgust.

"That, he most certainly is," he stares at his fingers on the keys for a few seconds before looking up at me with a smile, "There's one more piece I'd like to play for you," he says, his eyes bright even in the dim light of his room, "Would you care to hear it?"

"Of course!"

He smiles and watches my face silently before nodding once and turning to the keys once again.

He plays a piece that starts off slow; an introduction to a story. It picks up pace as he progresses, the melody not melancholic but not quite joyful either. It's somewhere in between, and it's very intricate. If I were to close my eyes, it would be almost impossible for me to believe that only two hands are playing this piece. It's so deep, so complicated, so  _passionate_ , as though the melody is filled to the brim with emotion that it finds difficult to convey.

I don't recognise the piece at all, but it's one of the most beautiful compositions that I have ever heard in my entire life.

When he finishes, he turns to me, waiting for a reaction.

"What do you think?" he asks.

 _I think you're fucking brilliant, that's what I think_.

"It's beautiful," I whisper, "I've never heard this one before. What's it called?"

"I haven't decided yet," he replies.

I stare at him.

"You… you composed it?"

He nods, a smile creeping across his face.

"Wow! That's amazing, Fenris! I can't believe it!" I continue to stare at him with wide-eyed wonder, "What inspired it?"

He raises his hand and strokes my cheek, his eyes gazing at me with utmost tenderness.

"You."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering what composition I had in mind for the original piece that Fenris wrote for Hawke, it's Yanni's Until The Last Moment.


	19. Chapter 19

Silence.

There's an odd ringing in my ears.

There's the sound of breathing.

There's the sound of two rapidly beating hearts.

But nothing else.

Just…silence.

I mean, what do you say in such situations? What do you say when someone bares their heart out to you, when they tell you they  _composed an entire freaking musical piece for you_?

I want to tell him 'thank you'. I want to tell him that I'd compose something for him too, if I had the talent. I want to tell him that he's the best thing that has happened to me  _ever_.

But I can't. I just can't. I'm just so consumed in this river of emotion that I can't find my voice.

So I do the only thing I can think of doing.

I kiss him.

It's the first time I've initiated a kiss, and I'm surprised by his reaction.  _Really_  surprised. So far, every single kiss with him has been soft, gentle, tentative; almost as though he wasn't sure whether I was all right with it or not.

But this time, it's different. His response is almost frantic. The moment my lips press against his, he growls, and the sound sends thrills through every single cell in my scorching hot body. He cups my face in his palms and kisses me with an urgency that dizzies and excites me at the same time. I snake my fingers through his silver-white hair, making a moan escape from his lips.

"Marian," he whispers when our lips very briefly part. Another low growl escapes his throat when our lips meet again, and I hear myself moan when I feel his tongue against mine.

 _I can't believe this. I can't fucking believe this! Shit, I'm gonna cry! I'm gonna cry!_

Sure enough, I feel the waterworks welling up behind my closed eyelids. I will them back, adamant to control my emotions for a change, but I feel a tear roll down my cheek despite the effort.

I've wanted this  _so_  badly for  _so_  long. I didn't even know how badly until now. I haven't been this genuinely happy in such a long time… not with Father's death, leaving Ferelden, Bethany's death, being poor and practically homeless refugees, and all the other shit I've had to go through in life.

But  _this_? It's like life has been blown back into my soul. It's so… _overwhelming_.

A brief silence ensues after the kiss, during which we both just sit there, each of us lost in our own thoughts, mine being of wonderment, and his… I have no idea.

"I want to tell you," Fenris whispers, breaking the silence. But he doesn't go on.

"Tell me what?" I ask, my head resting against his. I hear him gulp and he shifts nervously on the piano bench. I lift my head up and sit straight, giving him space. He looks at me, his dishevelled hair ( _Maker, does he look_ **sexy** _with dishevelled hair_ ) partly concealing his right eye.

"About me. Who I am. Why I escaped."

His voice sounds a little uncomfortable, but his expression is more certain. Resolute.

"I don't want you to feel compelled to tell me anything, Fenris," I say, "You don't owe me an explanation."

"No," he says, shaking his head, "I want you to know." He glances at the large wooden table behind us and smiles, "Perhaps we should move somewhere more comfortable?"

 _No! I want to sit here, right on this tiny piano bench with you_.

 _Because I like feeling the warmth of your body against mine_.

 _Because I am_ **such** _a creeper_.

I nod and get up to head back towards the yellow and red patterned seats. I grab my drink as soon as I sit down and take a sip, watching him as he does the same. My eyes are fixated on his throat as he swallows the wine.

 _Gosh, when in Thedas did I become such a creep?_

"What do you remember of your childhood, Hawke?" he asks. Strange. I thought this was going to me about  _him_.

"We were a very close-knit family," I reply after a moment's thought, "We moved around a lot. I think I've been to every single school in Ferelden, actually. My father was a-" I stop short, suddenly feeling panic-stricken.

I never told him that my father was a doctor. A neurologist, to be exact.

 _Crap_.

I avert my gaze, but I feel his penetrating eyes upon me, curious as to why I suddenly shut up.

"You father was a what?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

I take a deep, shaky breath, "A doctor. My father was a doctor."

The silence that ensues presses against my ears until I feel like my eardrums are on the verge of bursting.

"A doctor," he repeats. It's not a question.

 _Shit. Just_ **shit**.

"I… I wanted to tell you," I stutter, my voice apologetic, "I just… I just didn't want you to cut me out. You know… for being a doctor's daughter and all."

He doesn't say anything. He merely watches his wine, his expression stoic.

 _Shit. This is it. This is the end. The most beautiful night of my life has officially come to an end_.

"I… I understand if you want me to leave," I say in a shaky voice.

"No," he rapidly says, his eyes widening and… fearful? "No, please. It… it doesn't matter. It  _shouldn't_  matter. You're you and… that's all that matters." He scoots his chair closer to mine and takes my hand in both of his, "I never want you to leave, Hawke," he whispers, his eyes sincere and pleading "Never. I don't care if your entire family consisted of scientists and doctors. I don't even care if  _you_  were one."

"Really?" I ask incredulously.

"Really," he replies softly, "I think it's gone past that point now. I can't just let you walk out of my life like that. Well, unless you were an Alchemist, that is," he smirks.

"Nope, no alchemy involved," I grin.

"Good," he smiles. He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses it lightly. I feel that familiar electric charge surge into my hand and through my entire body. Without letting go of my hand, he sits straight and watches me, curiosity evident in his eyes, "So, you had a happy childhood, then?"

"Yeah," I nod, "It got a bit difficult at times, with all the moving around and whatnot, but it was a good life. We were happy."

He nods slowly, his eyes staring off into the distance, lost deep in thought.

"What about you?" I ask, "What was your childhood like?" For a brief moment, I try to picture Fenris as a child (with white hair because I can't picture him with any other) and I have to supress a smile at the image I conjured.

"My first memory is receiving these markings," he responds in a low voice, his eyes still distant, "the lyrium being branded into my flesh," he glances down at his hands, which are still holding mine, "The agony wiped away everything. Whatever life I had before Danarius adopted me… it's lost."

I stare at him, unable to believe my ears.

"You… you don't know who you were?" I ask incredulously.

He strokes my hand with his thumb, still watching his hands.

"Fenris is the name Danarius bestowed upon me. His 'little wolf'. If I once had another name or a family, then they were taken from me. I was told that Danarius adopted me from an orphanage, however, so I apparently didn't have a family before that. I don't necessarily believe that, though. And, I'll probably never find out."

Why does everything he tells me always leaves me speechless? I mean, honestly, what can I say? What can I possibly say?

"Have you tried finding out about your past? Like, asking around, visiting the orphanage you were taken from, going through your files?"

"Danarius refused to tell me what orphanage I was taken from," he responds, his expressing hardening, "I have no clue where I came from. All I've been told is that I'm from Seheron, but nothing more. I could have been taken straight out of my mother's arms, for all I know."

"Which is why Danarius used information about your family as bait to lure you last week," I quietly say as I nod slowly, "It all makes sense now."

He nods, watching me.

"For how long were you with him?" I ask.

"Five years. Five long, hard, fucking years."

My heart physically aches when I hear the evident strain in his voice.

"And… what finally made you leave?"

He's playing with my hand, his warm fingers interlocking with mine. It takes him a while to respond.

"You must understand that my life with Danarius was all I knew. Whatever I was before may as well have never been. The ritual made sure of that. So, to me, it just felt… normal. Like everything was exactly the way it should be. That Danarius was effectively my master and I his slave, destined to do his bidding, whatever it may be. Until one day…" I see his throat move as he gulps, his eyes fixated on our interlocked fingers, steely and cold. "One day… he went too far."

I am very vaguely aware of how bug-eyed I must look right now.

"What did he do?" I whisper, dreading the answer.

He absolutely refuses to meet my gaze.

"He…" he squeezes his eyes shut, clearly attempting to shut out a very unpleasant memory, "He made me... kill." He whispers that last word, his voice ridden with pain.

"Who?" I ask, now sitting on the very edge of my seat, "Why?"

His brow furrowed, he carries on, "There was a group of anti-slavery protestors in Tevinter. Slavery is very common over there," he explains, his eyes momentarily meeting mine before focusing back on our hands, "Even though Danarius was legally my foster parent, I was still his slave for all intents and purposes. That's just how things work in Tevinter. So this group was protesting in front of Danarius' mansion one day. Danarius is a prominent member of the Senate, so it was no secret that he kept slaves. The protestors started banging on the gates and climbing over the walls into the estate, yelling out profanities directed at Danarius, demanding that he set his slaves free. He was seated at his desk, writing letters, with me standing at his study's doorway, guarding him, when he ordered me to come to him and…" his frown becomes more pronounced and he pauses before going on, "and hands me a gun from the drawer."

He closes his eyes and shakes his head lightly before reaching over for the bottle of Agreggio and taking a very generous gulp.

"He ordered me to shoot them," he continues, "So I did. I… shot them all."

"What?" I gasp, "Why? Couldn't you have been arrested for murder?"

"No. A slave can never be arrested for fulfilling orders. And Danarius, being who he is, is immune from the law," he stares off into the distance before finally meeting my wide-eyed gaze, "Tevinter is a very corrupt place, Marian. It's probably the most corrupt place in all of Thedas. The law is only applied to those who have no status, no position, no power. Those who have all that are above it."

I slowly digest what he just told me, still in a state of utmost shock. How horrible it must have been to kill innocent people because your owner ordered you to.

Your  _owner_.

Fuck.

"What happened then?" I whisper. I want to pull him into my arms and just hold him there forever, until that sad, pained look is wiped away from his beautiful face.

With his eyes fixed on our hands again, he answers in a low voice, "Once it was done, I looked down at their bodies from the balcony, which was where I shot them from. I felt… I couldn't…" he squeezes his eyes shut and his voice breaks, which makes me reflexively place my free hand on his tattooed one, squeezing it gently in an attempt to soothe him.

"I waited till nightfall, crept into Danarius' bedroom while he was out, grabbed as much money as I could and ran. And never looked back."

"Where did you go?" I stroke his hand as I anticipate his response.

"I took a ship to the mainland, and as soon as I got there, I went straight to the airport and booked a ticket on the first plane out of Tevinter, which was headed to Orlais. I stayed there for a while, and then went to Nevarra, Rivain, even Antiva. I never stayed in one place for too long for fear of being found by one of Danarius' lackeys. And then, I came here. And I met you," he smiles for the first time since this conversation started, and I feel a warm glow in my heart.

"This can't be easy to talk about," I tell him, tracing the lines of the strange markings on the back of his hand, "Thank you for telling me. I really appreciate it, Fenris."

Saying his name out loud gives me butterflies.

 _Is that even normal?_

He watches me with the faintest hint of a smile before he takes another swig of wine from the bottle.

"I've never spoken about what happened to anyone," he quietly says, peering into the wine bottle through its mouth, "I've never wanted to."

"I hope you didn't feel compelled to tell me anything," I quickly say.

He looks away from the bottle to meet my gaze, "I didn't tell you because I felt compelled to, Hawke. I wouldn't have told you if I didn't want to." He places the bottle on the table and shifts in his seat, moving closer to me, "I trust you, Marian. I've never really trusted anyone before. And..." his eyes dart down to our hands and ( _Maker's breath, is he blushing?)_  when they dart back to mine, I see fiery passion burning inside them, smouldering my very soul, "I care for you, Marian. I really do."

I'm momentarily dazed by his intense gaze, my brain clouded with a thick, intoxicating fog.

"I care for you too," I murmur, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks.

He smiles and lifts my hand up to his lips, kissing it lightly.

 _I swear to the Maker, my heart can't handle this anymore. I'm either going to cry, pass out, or devour him. Or all three in one go_.  _If that's even remotely possible, that is_.

"I've never allowed anyone too close," he murmurs, brushing his lips against the back of my hand, "But you are unlike any woman I have ever met, Marian." His eyes are doing some intense smouldering right now. Come to think of it, they do that a lot.

"You mean…" I start, finding it a bit difficult to believe that someone as amazing as him has always been single.

"If there was someone before, I have no memory of it," he replies, understanding my unspoken question.

"There was no one after you escaped even?"

"I stayed nowhere for long," he says, bringing our hands back to his lap, "Who would I trust?" He hesitates before speaking again, "I didn't think I needed anyone. Or wanted anyone. Until now."

 _I can't. I can't take this. My heart. My emotions. I just…_

 _I just…_

"I want you," I whisper, feeling incredibly brave, "I've never felt this way about anyone before either."

He smiles, and with partially closed eyes, cups one side of my face with his hand and kisses me softly.

Then, he does something that I never in a million years expected him to do.

He hugs me.

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him, his chin resting on my right shoulder.

He's holding me in his arms.

I feel his heart beating against his chest.

I'm  _that_  close.

And it's such a damn beautiful moment and I can't help it, so, when the tears well up in my eyes, I let them spill.

I let them roll down my cheeks and onto his shoulder.

I let him hold me for as long as he likes because it's all I've ever wanted.

He's all I've ever wanted.

Ever since my life started.

I just….

I just didn't know it yet.

I was waiting; waiting for him to walk into my life. Waiting for him to tap me on the shoulder and hand me my forgotten iPhone. Waiting for him to hold my hand and give it a gentle squeeze at Bethany's funeral.

Waiting for him to hold me, close enough to feel his heartbeat.

I'm complete.

I was never one who pined after love and a partner to feel complete. I was always an independent person, and I loved it. I still do. But, in a moment such as this, I can't help but feel that there was always a missing piece that I wasn't aware of.

A missing piece in the form of Fenris.

And by some miraculous, stupid act of forgetfulness on my part, I came across him.

"It's getting late," he murmurs when he pulls away, his moss-green eyes warm and content, "I don't want you driving home at four in the morning," he smiles.

 _But I want to stay. Ask me to stay. Please_.

"Yeah," I nod weakly.

"You're half asleep already," he chuckles, stroking the hair out of my eyes.

 _No, I'm just dazed. Intoxicated by you and utterly dazed_.

 _I'm Fenris-drunk_.

I see his brow slightly furrow when he sees the glistening tear tracks on my face, but he smiles as he trails them with his thumb. I take his hand from my cheek and guide it to my lips, planting tender kisses on the inside of his warm palm. He watches me as I do so, before leaning in with closed eyes to rest his forehead against mine. We sit like that for a while, silent, just enjoying the peacefulness and proximity we find ourselves in.

Then, somewhere downstairs, a clock starts striking.

"It's 2 am," he quietly says. He stands up and takes my coat, holding it open for me to slip into. After he puts it on me, he kisses my neck and I sigh. I feel his lips form into a smile when he hears me.

We then head downstairs towards the main door together.

"Thank you for agreeing to dine with me tonight, Marian," he smiles. He sounds so formal all the time. I love it.

"Thank you for asking me," I smile back.

His eyes on my face, he unlocks the door and opens it, the cold, autumn air blowing into the vast entrance hall. He steps aside and lets me walk out first, closing the door behind him when he follows.

I unlock my car, but instead of getting in, I turn around and face him. He gently pushes his body against mine, causing my back to rest against the side of my car. He holds my face and kisses me gently, brushing his lips against mine as he slowly moves his head as though saying "no".

"Goodnight," he whispers, his lips moving against mine.

"Goodnight," I respond, breathless.

His lips lightly linger on mine for a short while before he steps back and straightens up. I have to breathe deeply for a couple of times to bring the oxygen back to my malfunctioning brain before I open the driver's door and get in. I start the car and wave to him before I back up and drive away, glancing at the rear view mirror to see him watching me, still standing in the exact same spot. My eyes keep darting to the mirror until I turn around a corner and can see him no longer.

I flip through my CD case with one hand and pull out a CD of a collection of my favourite classical pieces. I go straight to track 7 and smile as I listen to Chopin's  _Nocturne in G minor_ , imagining Fenris' slender tattooed fingers flitting across the keys as I drive through the dark, deserted streets of Hightown.

When I finally arrive at Gamlen's, wash my face, brush my teeth, put on my comfy pyjamas and crawl into bed, I almost drift off to sleep when my phone buzzes on the bedside table.

The blaring light emanating from my screen forces me to squint as I read a text message in pitch black darkness:

 **Fenris: I can't stop thinking about you**.

I bite my lower lips and smile, staring at the sweet, simple yet passionate words.

 _Neither can I. Believe me, neither can I_.


	20. Chapter 20

"Tell me  _everything_."

I smile as I sip my coffee in Isabela's tiny kitchen on Saturday morning.

"Ooooh, was Marian out on a date with Fenris last night?" Merrill asks, her mouth full of Oreos.

"Yes," Isabela smirks, her amber eyes mischievously bright as she watches me continue to silently sip my coffee , perched on the kitchen counter, "And she's going to tell us  _all_  about it."

"We had dinner at some ridiculously expensive Orlesian restaurant, drove an extremely drunk and distraught Anders to the Hanged Man, and had drinks at his place before I went  _home_ ," I shrug.

"Tsk tsk," Isabela shakes her head in mock disappointment, "And you actually think I'm going to let you go without getting  _every single detail_ , do you?" She leans across the counter, her ample bosom on the verge of spilling out of her extremely low-necked silk red pyjamas, her long, red-nailed fingers wrapped around her coffee mug, "So, tell me," she purrs seductively, "Did you two fuck each other's brains out?"

Merrill giggles, and I blush at how incredibly straightforward she is and raise my eyebrows at her.

"No, we didn't," I tell her, "Honestly Isabela, do you really think I'd just be sitting here, calmly sipping my coffee if we did?"

"Hmm, good point," she says, sipping on her coffee and popping an Oreo into her mouth.

"So, what did you do?" Merrill asks from her place at the little round wooden table in the centre of the kitchen, "I mean, you were at his house! Something must have happened!"

"I already told you," I say, setting down my empty mug and hopping off the counter to pour myself some more coffee, "We talked over drinks. And, he played me some music on the piano," I add with a little smile.

"He plays the fucking  _piano_?" Isabela asks with incredulity, setting down her own mug and staring at me with bug-eyed surprise.

"Yeah," I reply, my smile widening, "He's  _incredible_. Gosh, you can't even begin to imagine  _how_  incredible. He played me Mozart, Beethoven , Chopin… And, he's  _self-taught_. Never had a single music lesson in his life!"

"Maker's breath," Isabela breathes, "Just when I thought he couldn't get any sexier! Kitten!" she runs over to where I'm standing by the microwave and shakes me excitedly, "You are so fucking lucky! Seriously, I am so incredibly jealous right now!"

"He is _very_  handsome, Hawke," Merrill remarks, her skinny fingers rummaging around the Oreo packet for more cookies.

I grin shyly and look at my bare feet.

 _I know. I really, really know_.

"Please tell me you did more than just talk," Isabela says, her hands still grasping my shoulders, " _Please_ , kitten."

"We kissed," I smile, looking up at Isabela's bright amber eyes, "More than once."

"Oh my gosh!" she squeals, jumping up and down in her place, "What kind of a kisser is he? Is he gentle? Or is he dominating, like the wolf he is?"

"It wasn't the first time, Bela. Whenever he starts the kiss, he's really gentle and… hesitant. But… I dunno… something changed in him yesterday when I-"

Isabela waits for me to continue, but I don't.

"Well?" she demands loudly, "When you what?"

Do I tell them that he composed something for me?

Do I really need all that squealing and jumping right now?

Do I  _really_  want Isabela's already bulging eyes to pop out of their sockets?

 _Yeah_.  _I do_.

"I kissed him last night. First. I mean, I started it for the first time. Because he…" I bite my lower lip to supress a grin, "Because he composed something for me. On the piano."

And the squealing erupts. Except, this time, it's both Isabela  _and_  Merrill (who has an incredibly squeaky squeal). I laugh and motion for them both to quiet down.

"Shh! You'll get kicked out of your flat, Bela!"

But they're not listening. Merrill instantly jumps off her chair and rushes to me, joining Isabela in her on-the-spot hopping, their arms flailing in the air.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!" they both chant in squeaky voices. I can't help but laugh at how ridiculous they both look right now, especially with Isabela's breasts bouncing up and down like they are. It's quite a sight, actually.

"If you guys don't shut up, I'm not telling you another word of what happened!"

They shut up instantly. Like,  _instantly_.

I chuckle as I glance from bright, excited face to another, shaking my head at their adorable ridiculousness.

"I didn't show you the message I got in bed," I grin with a dramatic eyebrow waggle.

"Show us, show us!" they both plead on the tips of their toes.

I grin as I pull out my phone from the back pocket of my track pants.

Merrill's hands jump up to her mouth and Isabela's jaw drops to the floor.

' _I can't stop thinking about you'_.

Isabela's eyes dart up to mine, clearly lost for words.

"Kitten, I… I think you've done it. You've actually  _done_  it."

I don't understand.

"Done what?" I ask, confused.

"You hit the arrow in the right spot. You've made him fall for you. Fall in  _love_  with you."

I stare at her, shocked speechless.

"You're not serious, are you?" I ask her.

"Hello?" Isabela stares at me with a look of utmost incredulity, "Have you seen this message? Have you seen the way he looks at you? Do you see anyone else here who's got an incredibly sexy thing composing fucking MUSIC for them?"

"How does he look at her, Izzy? The last time I saw him, he was half passed out and bleeding to death," Merrill says sadly.

Isabela turns to Merrill, her eyes all doe-like and dramatic.

"Oh, kitten. When she's there, it's like she's the  _only_  one in the room. Last night at the Hanged Man, I swear to the Maker he couldn't take his eyes off her. Even when someone else was talking or telling a joke, he only had eyes for  _her_. And that little smile on his face as he watches her! Oh my gosh, it's so sweet, my teeth hurt! And the  _eyes_! Maker, the  _eyes_! They're like… like…"

"Like puppy eyes?" Merrill offers.

"Yes!" Isabela exclaims, "Like puppy eyes! Wide, adorable puppy eyes that he isn't even aware of!"

"Oh, Marian," Merrill coos up at me, her large green eyes doe-like and bright, "I wish I could be as lucky as you, finding someone like that. Did you respond to his message?"

"Yes! Did you?" Isabela nearly shrieks.

"I did," I nod, scrolling down the screen with my index finger, "Here," I hold out the phone to them.

' _I feel that way about you every day'_.

"Awwww, kitten!" Isabela places her hand on her cheek, beaming at me, "That is just the sweetest thing! Now I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, awww!"

"Me too," Merrill coos, beaming just as warmly as Isabela.

I roll my eyes but I can't help but blush, "Whatever, you guys. I was actively trying to be sweet."

"Yeah right," Isabela sneers, "I bet that message kept him awake all night, lost in a cloud of warm fuzz and fluffy things."

"With Marian's face floating before his eyes," Merrill adds with a smile.

"Oh, it's not just her face floating before his eyes, kitten," Isabela grins naughtily.

"Bela!" My blushing intensifies tenfold, "Stop that!"

"What?" she laughs, "You know it's true!"

"No, I don't!"

"Keep telling yourself that," she grins, moving towards the packet of Oreos on the little round table in the little square kitchen.

* * *

"Hawke, got a minute?"

"Athenril!" I wipe the sweat off my brow as I jog towards the skinny, petite and pointy woman leaning against training room 1's doorway, "Your men never told me you were visiting today!"

"They didn't know," she shrugs, "Thought I'd drop by and thank you personally for all the effort you've put into training my men. Casualties have been more than halved, and the Coterie is finally learning to think twice before coming anywhere near us and our shipments. And all this wouldn't have been possible without your help, Hawke."

"I... wow! I had no idea! It's only been a couple of weeks, Athenril, I wasn't expecting such an improvement so soon!"

"A testament to your skill," she smiles. Her large eyes scan the training room behind me, "Class done for the day?" she asks.

"We just finished," I nod, glancing behind my back to look at the students. I see a large group huddled in the far left corner, surrounding someone I can barely see, but can see just enough of to know who it is.

I can spot that silver-white hair from anywhere.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Athenril's voice snaps me back to my senses, "I also came here to pay you personally for all your work," she hands me a fat envelope ( _oh, so very fat_ ), which I stare at briefly before hesitantly taking it from her slender hand.

"This is…" I stare at her, unable to believe my eyes, "This is for me?"

"Just a little thank you," she nods, "I'm not done with you yet, though. With your training, we'll be practically untouchable. And I know you have a personal beef with our enemy, the Coterie. We can work together, you and I, and you'll get your revenge. I swear it."

"I'm in," I say, my voice hardening as the image of a bloody and lifeless Bethany becomes fixed before my eyes, "Those bastard will pay for what they've done to my sister if it's the last thing I do."

"I'm sure they will," Athenril says. A group of four, large, burly men approach us, sweating like pigs. Athenril raises her eyebrows when she sees the beat up look on their exhausted faces, "I see you really given them a good ass kicking in your sessions, Hawke," she remarks with amusement, "Good job. They need some good ass kicking. Don't you, men?"

They mumble in collective, obedient agreement as they shuffle their feet towards the changing rooms.

"Well then, I'll see you later in the week, Hawke. Oh, and you won't need to come in to train them on your off days. Three days a week here is more than enough for them, so you can get some semblance of your life back," she nods once and leaves the training room.

I turn back and see that the large group has now nearly completely dissipated, with only Connor and a few of his friends still chatting away to Fenris.

"Man, how long do you think it'll take for the stitches to completely disappear?" I hear Connor ask as I make my way to my gym bag.

"Not long," Fenris' quiet voice replies. I automatically smile to myself as soon as I hear it, "It's two weeks tomorrow."

"Man, that was some fall, huh?" Victor, another pupil of mine, remarks.

"It was," Fenris replies, and I can hear a smile in his voice. When we met up yesterday for coffee and ice cream, we agreed to attribute the stitches to a minor fall down the stairs, the least dramatic possibility of them all. The plan seems to be working flawlessly.

I hear the kids say goodbye to Fenris and I wave at them when they yell out the same to me. I hear the quiet sounds of his bare feet as he makes his way towards me.

"They bought it very easily," he smirks as he grabs a towel from his bag and wipes his neck, "Evidently, I'm the falling-down-a-flight-of-stairs kinda guy."

"Apparently so," I chuckle before gulping down some water. We pack all our things and head out of the training room together.

"See you in a bit," I say as we make our separate ways to the changing rooms. He winks at me before disappearing round a corner.

I shower a bit too quickly in my eagerness to be reunited with Fenris again. I don't even bother to dry my hair. I just throw on my clothes, slip into my Chucks, and dart out of the changing room, only to be greeted by…

Yes.

None other than Alistair Theirin.

 _Again_.

"Marian!" he grins when he sees me. It's starting to become blaringly obvious that he purposely waits for me after each karate class, and if it were anyone else- literally  _anyone_ else- I would be extremely annoyed right now.

But, it's Alistair. My sweet, puppy-like, adorable, kind Alistair. He can never annoy me. Not in a million years.

"Hey, Al," I smile. I glance around to see if Fenris is out yet. He isn't.

 _Geeze, I really did sprint through that shower, didn't I?_

"How was class?" my adorable blonde asks as he leans against a wall. He looks exceptionally handsome today. I'm momentarily taken back to the days in Ferelden when I first saw him. We were in Redcliffe, and he was having an extremely loud argument with his uncle about not wanting to join the military. I was coming back from the shops with Mother, and we passed by their front yard on the way. I remember thinking that he was the most handsome creature I had ever seen. I remember how he suddenly stopped yelling when I caught his eye, how his expression instantly went blank, how his mouth opened a little as he watched me pass by.

I remember the night we first kissed. The first kiss for both of us. I remember being convinced that I was completely and utterly in love with him.

Perhaps I was.

"Good," I reply, folding my arms across my chest and stepping closer to him, "Got paid big time today."

"Yeah? How much?"

I pull out the fat envelope from my gym bag. Alistair's hazel eyes widen and his jaw drops open to the floor.

"Maker's breath!" he breathes, staring at the treasure in my hand, "How much is in there?"

"I haven't counted yet. Thought I'd wait till I got home."

"Good idea," he nods, "Wouldn't want anyone putting their eye on you. Especially here in Lowtown." He pushes off the wall and steps closer to me, almost too close. Again, if this were anyone but Alistair, I would have backed away or, if they were complete strangers, I would have straight out asked _them_  to back away.

But, this is Alistair.

You have to remember that.

I know this seems strange, considering my relationship with Fenris. But I've always known that Alistair will always have a special spot in my heart. You know how people say you never forget your first love?

It's true.

"What are you doing tonight?" he asks softly.

 _Shit._

 _Why did you suddenly start asking me out whenever you see me, my darling blonde? Why? And to make matters worse, you always ask me when I have other commitments_.

Well, last time, I had a dinner date with Fenris. This time, I don't really have anything else.

Not yet.

But, what if Fenris suddenly throws something at me? Drinks at the Hanged Man? A coffee date? I can't risk saying yes to Alistair if it'll stop me from being with Fenris. I just can't. Because, no matter how much you care for your first love, they can't outrank your current flame. Especially when that current flame is  _Fenris_.

"Well, I was thinking that I'd-"

My heart jumps when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and nearly sigh with relief when I see Fenris approaching in fresh, fitted charcoal-grey corduroys, a crisp, black button-up shirt, and his usual black and charcoal-grey Oxfords, his gym bag in one hand, his coat over the other.

 _Maker, he's like a supermodel out of freaking Vogue Magazine_.

He walks to my side, his eyebrows shooting up when he sees how close Alistair and I are standing.

"Hey," he smiles at me, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Alistair," he nods.

"Hey, Fenris," Alistair smiles, though his smile doesn't reach his eyes either.

"You two know each other?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah, we know each other," Fenris replies, his eyes fixed on Alistair.

"We run into each other during our morning jogs," Alistair explains.

 _Fenris goes for morning jogs?_

 _I had no idea_.

And I waste an hour of my life running on a treadmill at the freaking gym when I could be jogging with Fenris.

How terrific.

"How do  _you_  guys know each other?" Alistair asks, folding his buff arms across his wide, muscular chest.

"We teach karate together," I reply.

"We'll be late for the movie, Marian" Fenris quickly says.

 _Movie? Huh? What movie? We're going out for a movie?_

Confused, I look at Fenris, who is stoically looking back at me.

 _Clearly, I missed something. I must have_.

"A…a movie?" Alistair stammers, his eyes darting from me to Fenris and back, "You guys are… you're… Are you da-dating, then?"

I glance at Fenris for help, but he's just calmly standing beside me, his expression as stoic as ever. I gulp and turn back to Alistair, who has this incredibly worried expression on his face.

"Uhh… yeah," I reluctantly reply.  _Darn it_. This isn't how I wanted him to find out. This is cruel. This is just downright cruel.

"Oh."  _Shit_. He looks so  _hurt_. "I… I didn't…" he looks down, exhales, and looks back up at us, "You're a lucky guy, Fenris. Take… take good care of her."

"You don't need to tell me that," Fenris responds curtly. Gosh. He can really be… cold at times.

"Yeah. Of course," Alistair nods. He looks at me, and I swear my heart hurts a little inside, "Have fun at the movies, Marian. I'll… I'll see you around," and he shuffles off towards the exit, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped, and I actually feel a bit annoyed with Fenris right now.

First of all, there is no movie. Unless he decided to ask me to go to one during his shower, he made it all up. We had absolutely no set plans for tonight.

Secondly, Alistair is such a nice guy. A genuinely and really nice guy. You don't come across many of those. For Fenris to treat him in such a cold, steely manner for absolutely no apparent reason… I just… I don't like that. Not one bit. Especially after finding out that they know each other.

Finally, when Alistair and I broke up, it wasn't exactly a breakup per se. We still had feelings for each other. We just weren't ready for a full-on intimate relationship, so we decided to stay friends and keep the possibility of getting back together open. We just never did. Not before Fenris showed up in my life, at least. Who knows what could've happened if I never forgot my phone that day, or if Zevran didn't bust his back and quit as assistant Sensei.

So, it's not completely surprising that Alistair was trying to rekindle things between us. It was what we both expected back in Ferelden. Heck, I could even go as far as saying it was what we both wanted.

 _Sigh_. I hope he finds someone else. Someone as great as Fenris. I really, really hope he does. Because, there's no way I'm leaving this creature. This apparently cold, stoic creature with a hidden passion and intensity fervently burning deep inside his very soul.

This creature who is now appraising me with a raised eyebrow, clearly waiting for an explanation.

"Let's just get in the car," I mumble. He merely nods and follows me out into the cold evening air of the parking lot.

"Alistair and I used to date," I explain as soon as we're settled in our car seats, "Back in Ferelden a few years ago. We… we never did… anything. I mean, it was just puppy love. Holdings hands and kisses and all that. But… I did care for him. A lot. I might have even loved him, I dunno. Point being, we broke up with the agreement that what we had could be rekindled in the future. When we're older and… ready. I guess this was him indicating his readiness."

Fenris is extremely silent, his expression- yes, you guessed it: stoic.

"I see," he finally says, looking down at the gym bag on his lap.

"He was just asking me out. I was going to say no, I already did that once before. It's over between him and I, Fenris. It's been over for years."

He nods, his eyes still staring at the black bag.

"So," I prop my elbow on the steering wheel and rest my chin on my hand, "What's this business about going to see a movie?" I smirk.

Success! I see a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"The way I threw it out there, I know what you must think," he says, twiddling his slender fingers, "But I really did have a movie date planned out. I just didn't want to ask you earlier because I… I wasn't sure if you wanted to. Or if you had other plans."

I raise my eyebrows at him, "You know I don't have other plans."

He continues to keep his eyes fixed on his fingers, "I'm not going to pretend that seeing you standing so close to him didn't… spark something in me. Something I'd never really felt before with such… intensity."

"What, you were jealous?" I ask teasingly.

"I was," he replies seriously. "Very jealous, in fact."

Oh my heart. This perfect being feels jealousy over  _me_.  _What is happening to this world?_

I smile and brush my fingers through his damp hair. He closes his eyes and exhales, his tense shoulders instantly relaxing under my gentle touch.

"I'd love to go see a movie with you," I murmur.

He smiles, finally looking up to meet my gaze.

"I checked the movie listings for tonight before class today. I thought we could go see  _The Adjustment Bureau_? I hear it's really good. Matt Damon stars in it, if you like him."

"I love Matt Damon," I smile as I start the car, "What time does it start?"

He checks the time on his phone, "In an hour. We've still got time. The cinema's in Hightown, but it's a weekday, so we won't have much trouble with traffic."

"Great. We can grab something to eat, then. I'm starving! Unless you'd prefer to wait and get popcorn instead? I don't really like popcorn, so I think I'll pass."

"I don't like popcorn either," he smiles, "Dinner sounds good."

"Got a specific place in mind?" I ask as I back out of the parking space.

"Whatever you want," he murmurs. He reaches over and slides his hand into my free one, gives it a gentle squeeze and lets go, turning to stare out his side's window with that beautiful faint smile on his face.

I pull out my phone and pretend to be going through it, when what I'm actually doing is typing out a quick message to Isabela with one hand:

 **We're going to the movies**.

Barely a few seconds pass before my phone buzzes in my hand.

 **Bela: Eeek! Which one?**

I'm struggling to keep the screen clearly out of his view as I quickly type a reply.

 **The Adjustment Bureau**.

Seconds pass...

 **Bela: OMG! That is so fucking ROMANTIC! Ahh, kitten! I'm SO excited for you! You have to tell me EVERYTHING!**

I try my best not to smile as I send her my final response:

 **Oh, I will ;)**


	21. Chapter 21

We have dinner as this artsy pizzeria in Hightown.

We order a margarita pizza and ricotta cheese ravioli.

We drink red wine and cranberry juice.

I learn that his favourite dessert is dark chocolate soufflé.

I learn that his favourite city is Starkhaven because of all the history and architecture. He's really into that sort of thing. Which is great, because I am too.

I learn that he loves watching movies in foreign languages, especially Orlesian ones. I like to think that's because they're the most romantic. He has a thing for foreign languages. Apart from English, he speaks Tevene fluently (which is practically his mother tongue) and the Orlesian he picked up from his time in Orlais is almost flawless.

I learn that he can't swim and that he likes apples.

I learn that his favourite musical genre is classical music, that he is a huge Michael Jackson fan, and that he cannot, absolutely  _cannot,_  stand fish and mussels, but doesn't mind other seafood.

I also learn that he absolutely  _adores_  the cinema.

"I've never been to the movies in all of my time with Danarius," he explains after swallowing a mouthful of ravioli, "I had no idea what the cinema even was. The first time I went to it was during my second week in Orlais. It was an Orlesian movie, naturally; ' _Bienvenue_ '. There were no subtitles, no nothing, just this foreign and incredibly beautiful language playing in my ears. I'd heard the Orlesian dialect before. Danarius had quite a few Orlesian officials as guests, so I picked up on some of the words from exposure over the years, but nowhere near enough to understand what was being said in the film," he takes a sip of wine and sets his fork down, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers, "What really struck me is the sense of privacy you get when you're in that dark theatre. Even with people flanking either side of you, you're truly alone in there, with no one to bother you or watch you. Just you, the darkness, the film and your thoughts. It's this incredible form of escapism. You're in your own world in that singular seat. I loved that. I really did. Started a cinema addiction that I still struggle with to this day," he grins.

"I know exactly what you mean," I smile, involuntarily leaning in closer to him, breathing in the wine from his breath, "Whenever I used to have an argument with my family and felt like I really needed to get out of the house and escape, I'd go see a movie. You just lose yourself in the storyline and the darkness, leaving reality behind. It's a beautiful experience."

"Hmm," he smiles and takes another sip of wine. He unlocks his iPhone and looks at the illuminated screen.

My eyes still dominate his wallpaper.

 _Gosh_.

"What was the movie about?" I ask, wanting him to keep talking. I love the sound of his voice way, way too much.

"It was about a Kurdish refugee living in Orlais who was trained by an Orlesian swimming coach to swim across the Waking Sea to be reunited with his lover in Ferelden."

"Why couldn't he just get a flight or a ship there?"

"Because he was an illegal immigrant," Fenris replies simply, "Didn't have a passport or anything."

"So, what happened? Did he end up crossing the Waking Sea?"

"He attempted to."

"And?"

"Never made it. Drowned a few metres off the coast of Jader. A storm got him."

"Oh," I look at his hands on the table, feeling a sudden sadness sweep through me.

"The swimming coach went to Ferelden, found the girl, and told her himself. Gave her the ring her lover intended to give her."

"Did she take it?"

"No," he says in a low, gravelly voice, "She was already engaged to someone else. It was already arranged by her parents. They didn't want her marrying her lover."

"That's…" I shake my head, "That's horrible.  _Tragic_."

"It's very tragic, yes," Fenris nods, "It's also one of my favourite films. Maybe it's because it was the first. Or maybe because I'm just a very tragic sort of person," he flashes me a crooked smile that incapacitates my lungs for a few seconds.

I smile back, my eyes briefly meeting his before looking back down at his tattooed, olive hands. Hands that reach over and cover mine, warm and gentle against my pale skin, before they move away, reaching towards his wine glass instead.

"We'd better head off," he says, raising the glass to his lips and finishing his wine. We ask for the bill (which I pay because there is just no way I am letting him do that this time) and walk to the cinema.

He doesn't like holding hands while walking in public (he never expressly mentioned that, but he's never attempted to hold my hand in public, so it's an accurate implication), which is a super bonus as far as I'm concerned, because I hate PDA in any way, shape, or form.

Holding hands in public?

Yeah.  _So_  not my thing.

While waiting in the ticket line, I see Carver, of all people, with a bunch of his friends by the snack bar. I wave at him, and while I am absolutely a hundred per cent positive he saw me, he acts like he didn't and entirely ignores me.

And I thought that Bethany's death brought us closer.

Guess I was wrong.

We get the tickets, skip the snacks, and head straight to cinema number 2. Our seats are way at the back in a private little corner with barely any people sitting nearby.

And, as you can probably already guess, my heart is pounding.

Fast.

We're a bit early; the ads and trailers aren't even running yet. The only sounds are those of people munching on popcorn and nachos, the low murmur of conversation, and the cheesy country music playing in the background.

"I've never been to the cinema with someone else before," Fenris murmurs.

"I guess that makes me your first ever cinema buddy, then?" I grin.

"I suppose so," he grins back, flashing a set of perfectly white teeth.

The lights soon dim out and the ads and trailers start playing. A teenage-looking couple whose faces I can't see in the dark arrive and sit in the row in front of us. They start making out practically as soon as their asses touch the retractable seats.

And what's more awkward than your very first movie date with the most amazing guy you've ever met?

Being on that date with the sound of moaning and smacking lips emanating from the row in front of you filling your eardrums.

"They're quite keen, aren't they?" Fenris whispers with a chuckle.

" 'Keen' doesn't even  _begin_  to cover it," I roll my eyes.

 _Stupid, desperate, groping teenagers_.

He chuckles again and leans back in his seat. I'm extremely aware of how close his arm is to mine on the armrest. It's not touching mine, but it's barely inches away. I can feel the heat radiating from it.

 _I'm doing this. I'm watching what has been called one of the most romantic movies of all time with Fenris_.

Bela and Merrill cried when they saw it. Varric teared up a bit. It's _that_  romantic.

Should I see it as a coincidence that Fenris chose this movie, of all the other movies we could have seen, to take me to tonight?

No. I'm not going to see it as a coincidence. I'm going to see it as a deliberate and carefully calculated choice, because dammit, I want to see it that way. The thought of him specifically choosing this movie makes me  _happy_.

The lights completely go out after fifteen minutes or so, and the movie finally starts.

I realise that this is the first time I'm plunged in complete darkness with Fenris seated barely an inch away from me. Suddenly, every single fibre in me is on alert, hyper aware of his proximity to me. My heart is beating and the butterflies are fluttering and it's all getting pretty darn ridiculous.

 _Everything about me is ridiculous. No surprises there_.

When the movie starts, my jitters fade as I quickly become engrossed in the story. It's one of those movies that capture you from the opening scene. And that first  _kiss_!  _Maker's breath_ , that first kiss. The passion, the connection, the clarity. All translated into one look, one kiss. Between complete strangers.

It's…

It's beautiful.

The notion that two people are destined to be together no matter what. That they were literally  _made_  for each other, in every sense of the term. That, no matter what comes in between them, they will always- _always_ \- be reunited. And if something or someone does threaten to come between them, to separate them, they will do whatever it takes to stop that from happening, because to them, life is meaningless without each other.

It's all so tremendously beautiful, it makes me want to cry.

And, guess what?

I do cry.

Well, I don't  _cry_ , but I do tear up. A bit.

Okay, a lot.

I have to pretend that I'm catching a cold when I start sniffing.

Yeah, I'm _that_  emotional.

If there is anything that really affects me, I mean  _really_  stirs up my emotions, it's love. True, deep, passionate, intense and unwavering love.

The kind of love portrayed in  _The Adjustment Bureau_.

 _Exactly_  that kind of love.

Halfway through the movie, the teenage couple in front of us start getting vocal.

 _Well, this is awkward. Get a fucking room!_

I glance sideways at Fenris, his face illuminated by the light from the screen, and I see a smirk.

 _At least one of us finds this amusing_.

I focus on the movie, trying my best to drown out the smacking and moaning of the teenage couple.

I'm really touched by this one part. I'm so touched, in fact, that I let out a muffled sob (muffled because I tried my best not to let it out at all).

And what happens next blows me away.

Fenris lifts up the armrest between us and wraps his arm around me, pulling me against him.

And I just die.

I die and go to heaven.

I'm sitting in a dark theatre watching  _The Adjustment Bureau_  with Fenris' arm wrapped around me.

I'm  _so_ glad I let out that sob.

I am  _so_  fucking glad.

Wanting to make the most of this incredible moment, I rest my head on his shoulder, inhaling deep and smelling shampoo.

Sitting here, feeling the heat of his body against mine, feeling the steady rise and fall of his side as he breathes, feeling the strong and secure hold of his arm around my shoulders... Peeking up at his face and seeing that smile…

What more could I want?

What more could I  _possibly_  want?

What I do next takes even  _me_  by surprise.

I give him a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek.

His smooth, flawless, stubble-free cheek.

I feel his smile widen before I move my lips away from his face.

He reaches over with his free hand and takes my hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and covering it in light, gentle kisses.

My heart is dancing in my chest and I just want to jump him, right here in the dark theatre.

 _Maker's breath, Hawke! You're turning into the disgustingly vocal teenage couple in front of you!_

Okay, maybe not _jump_  him, but… do something to him. Like climbing onto his lap and kissing the hell out of him. Something along those lines.

But, unlike  _some_  people in this theatre, I have self-control and willpower. So, I continue to merely rest my head against his shoulder and watch the remainder of this incredibly romantic movie in his arms.

 _In his arms_.

 _When did I get so lucky?_

By the time the end of the movie rolls by, my face is shining with tears. The ending was just… I can't even put it into words. It was so darn beautiful.

"You okay?" Fenris asks with a concerned look when he sees my tear-stricken face.

"Oh, yeah," I laugh dismissively, sniffing and wiping away the tears with my sleeve, "I can be overly emotional sometimes, that's all."

He smiles at me just as the lights go back on.

"Happy endings usually make you cry?" he asks as he stands up.

"Only if they really touch me," I reply, still wiping my face as I leave my seat. The teenage couple in front of us have also stood up to leave. I glance at their faces just out of curiosity (I mean, they were  _really_ getting it on during the movie) and freeze, my eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

" _Carver_?"

My tall, pale, buff, blue-eyed brother swivels around and stares at me with a look of abject horror, his cheeks immediately turning into a deep scarlet.

The intense blushing thing runs in the family.

"Ma-Marian?" he stutters, his eyes wide with disbelief, "Wha-what're you doing here?"

"I was watching a movie," I raise my eyebrows, " _This_  movie, in fact. You know, the one you were watching for the past two hours?"

He gulps and darts his eyes sideways to who I assume is his girlfriend, who is uncomfortably standing by Carver's side with an utterly embarrassed look on her pink face.

"You were umm, sitting here the entire time?" he asks, rubbing his neck and looking everywhere but at me.

"Yeah, we were."

He looks at Fenris and notices him for the first time.

"You've met Fenris, remember, Carver?"

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods, "Yeah, I remember."

"And who's your friend?" I ask innocently. From the corner of my eye, I see Fenris smirk.

"Uhh, this…this is Peaches," Carver stammers as he looks at the blonde girl at his side, "My uhhh… friend."

 _A 'friend'. Suuuuuure_.

I throw Fenris a knowing smirk before I turn to Peaches.

"Hello, Peaches," I smile at the wide-eyed girl, "I'm Marian. Carver's sister."

She merely smiles shyly and nods, her eyes darting to the floor.

"Do you need a ride home, Carve?" I ask.

"No, no I'm good. Going to a friend's place tonight."

"It's Monday, Carve. Don't you have class tomorrow?"

He glares at me, and I can almost see the blood boiling under his skin.

"I do," he replies through gritted teeth.

"Don't stay out too late, then. I'll see you later, Carve. It was nice to meet you, Peaches," I add to the silent blonde girl. She nods again, her eyes still glued to her ( _very_ pink) sneakers. I turn to Fenris, who still has an adorable amused smirk on his face, and nod towards the exit.

"Enjoyed the movie?" I ask when we step out into the cool night air.

"I did," Fenris smiles. He hesitates for a while before he smirks and adds, "Not as much as your brother, though."

I roll my eyes, "Oh, I doubt anyone enjoyed the movie as much as Carver has."

He chuckles and rocks back and forth on his heels, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his grey pea coat.

"So… what do you want to do now?" he asks after a brief silence.

 _Dude… just stay by my side and I could just stand here forever_.

"I dunno," I shrug. I glance at the time on my phone, "It's only nine… but if you want to call it a night or anything…"

"I don't think I'm ready to leave you just yet," he smiles. Under the streetlamp, his eyes look gloriously  _golden_.

I want to say ' _I don't want you to ever leave me, Fenris_ '. I want to say that  _so_  badly, but it's too dramatic. Like a corny scene from a 1960's romance.

"We could drive to the docks and have a little stroll there," I suggest. It seriously amazes me how calm I'm able to keep my voice when on the inside, I'm anything but.

"Sounds good," he smiles and steps closer to me. He makes a motion with his arm as though intending to put it around my shoulders, but he hesitates and quickly brings it back to his side.

The drive to the docks is brief and silent. I plug in my iPhone and play my Bon Iver playlist. I sing along to  _Perth_.

"You have a beautiful voice," Fenris murmurs from the passenger seat.

I instantly feel my cheeks go warm and smile shyly.

"Thank you. I get it from my mom. She was a singer back in the day."

"Yeah? Like a recording artist?"

"Yeah. She landed herself a record deal with Sony when she was nineteen. She recorded her first album and was a month away from touring to promote it when she met my dad and got pregnant with me. Gave it all up to start a family," I parallel park on the side of the docks and pull up the hand brake, "Quite frankly, I think that was probably one of the stupidest decisions she ever made. She had it all: A record deal, money, freedom. She did what she  _loved_. Many people would do anything for that. And she just threw it all away to have me and be with Dad."

"Wouldn't you have done the same?"

"No way! I wouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place," I exclaim, "Especially at  _nineteen_. I'm nearly twenty six and the thought of having children still freaks me out!"

"When were you born?" Fenris asks as he opens his door and gets out of the car.

"Thirty first of December."

"On New Year's Eve!" he chuckles, "Must be quite the celebration every year, huh?"

"Not really. I'm not that big on birthday parties. When they're my own, I mean. I love throwing parties for others, but when it comes to me, I'd rather everyone just ignore it. I always beg my family to downplay it and treat it as every other day, but my mother and Beth-" I stop short and look down at the thought of my sister, the sorrow trickling into me, but I quickly regain my composure and carry on, "My mother and Bethany always went overboard. All the incessant kisses and hugs and gifts. And the  _parties_. I don't even like parties, but they always insisted. Bethany, especially…"

My voice trails away, and this time, I can't hold back the hot tears welling up in my eyes. I feel Fenris' strong arms pull me in against him, holding me tight in the middle of the dark, windy pier.

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice cracking with emotion, "I just… the thought of her… I still can't believe she's gone. My baby sister…"

My voice trembles and the sobbing ensues. Fenris' hold on me tightens, my face buried into his shoulder as I cry, my body shaking, my heart physically aching in my chest.

"It's all right," he whispers, stroking the back of my head, "It's all right."

He kisses the top of my head and keeps his lips gently pressed there until I calm down.

"I'm sorry," I sniff, looking up at him with puffy, red eyes.

"Don't apologise," he says in a gentle yet firm tone, "There's nothing to apologise for. I'm here for you, Marian." He wipes away my tears with the back of his fingers before he leans in and kisses me softly on the forehead.

"Thank you," I murmur, closing my eyes as I snake my arms around his waist, "I don't know what I'd do without you, Fenris. I really, really don't."

"And I don't know what I'd do without  _you_ ," he whispers, "You're the most important thing to me right now. The most important thing to me  _ever_."

If I wasn't in my current, sorrowful state, I'd go internally ballistic at what he just said. So, for once, I actually react  _normally_.

I smile up at him and pull his face closer to mine, kissing him in the middle of the deserted pier.

And while I should be feeling safe and content in his arms, a feeling of uneasiness creeps into me even as I feel his soft lips moving against mine.

I've had this feeling before.

I had it before Dad died. I remember it clearly.

I also had it before Bethany was killed.

 _Shit_.

"When were  _you_ born?" I ask him, attempting to get rid of my negative thoughts.

I feel him instantly stiffen against me and I immediately regret asking him that stupid, stupid question.

He doesn't remember. He doesn't  _know_.

I cup his face in my hands and look at him with intensity, "Danarius won't get away with this, Fenris. He won't. I'll help you find out everything about your past. About who you were and where you came from. About your family. I promise."

He gazes back at me, his expression warm and tender, and kisses the inside of my palm.

"I... I appreciate that, Marian," he murmurs. His grip around my waist tightens as he pulls me in for another kiss.

When we pull away and resume our stroll, I feel a chill that has nothing to do with the weather creep down my spine. I shiver involuntarily, and Fenris, for the first time ever, puts his arm around me and pulls me in against him as we walk.

Less than five months ago, I used to frequent this pier alone, with only my thoughts for company.

As I listen to him telling me about his travels before he came to Kirkwall, as I watch the arm not wrapped around me move animatedly as he speaks, and as I see the faint smile on his lips and the warm yet intense gaze as he watches me talk, I realise something for the very first time.

I realise that I love him.

And while I know it shouldn't, the feeling scares me. Because, for whatever reason, that feeling of uneasiness still lingers, like a premonition of what lies ahead.


	22. Chapter 22

"Maker, it smells  _good_  in here!"

"It's the sourdough bread," Varric says as he leads me towards the counter in  _Bartrand's Bakery_ , "Freshly baked every morning. I can't ever get enough of it."

"Can't say I blame you," I say as I deeply inhale the intoxicatingly delicious aroma.

It's well into October, and I've made more than enough money to invest in Bartrand's business and become a partner.

 _Finally_.

We approach a pretty red-headed girl standing behind the counter of the crowded bakery on a Thursday morning.

"Good morning, Leliana," Varric smiles at the redhead, "How are you today, beautiful?"

"Good morning, Varric," Leliana says in a slightly Orlesian accent, "I'm very well, thank you. You're in to see Bartrand?"

"I am," Varric replies as he snakes his short, sturdy arm around my waist, "Me and his partner here," he adds with a grin and a wink up at me.

Leliana's blue eyes slide over to me, a curious look in them, but she smiles and asks us to wait while she informs Bartrand of our arrival.

"You wouldn't think I'm his brother, would you?" Varric asks after Leliana disappears behind a wooden door, "All this formality, even with his own family. Good old Bartrand."

"Carver would do the exact same thing, if that's any consolation," I say dryly.

The door behind the counter flings open and Leliana reappears.

"You can go in," she says, her eyes a bit wary, "But, I should warn you; he's not in the best of moods today."

"Is he ever?" Varric says, "C'mon, Hawke. Let's cheer my poor old brother up with some of your cash, shall we?"

I laugh and follow him into Bartrand's office. It's elaborately decorated with what I assume are dwarven artefacts and furniture. It's a bit strange, seeing as Varric seems to have no connection to Orzammar in the slightest.

"Bartrand!" Varric cheerfully addresses the grumpy, light-haired dwarf seated in a high-backed and incredibly uncomfortable-looking dwarven chair, "It's been a while!"

"Varric," Bartrand says in a hard voice, "Where've you been off to?"

"Oh, you know," Varric smirks as he looks up at me, "finding you a partner to invest in the business, that sorta thing."

"What?" Bartrand sits up straight in his frigid, stone seat, "Partner? You stupid nug-humping dirt farmer! Why'd you go promising something like that?"

"Because brother, we both know very well that you've been running short on cash as of late and that you'll be closing shop unless you find someone who can invest in the business. And I've got that someone right here."

"Hmph!" Bartrand relaxes back into his seat, his pale, icy-blue eyes fixed on me, "Maybe you have a point."

"So, we're partners?" I ask eagerly.

"That depends," the grumpy dwarf replies, "You've got the money we need?"

"I do," I reply, my fingers clenching around the envelope in my messenger bag.

He sits back up again, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"You're joking. Are you telling me you've got five thousand sovereigns right here, right  _now_?"

"Yep," I say, emphasising the 'p' with a  _pop_  sound.

"What did I tell you, Bartrand?" Varric grins and pokes my side, "Not bad for a Fereldan fresh off the boat."

Bartrand looks at me for a while, appraising me with those cold eyes of his.

"All right, partner," he finally says in a low voice, "Hand me the money, and you sign the partnership contract right now. Full share of any profits between you and me."

I pull out the fat envelope almost too eagerly and walk over to his humongous stone table, placing it carefully in front of him. He picks it up and weighs it in his hand before opening it.

"By the Stone," he whispers, his eyes wide and glinting, "I haven't seen so much money for weeks! Months, even!"

Varric beams proudly as he looks at first the envelope, then me.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Bartrand?" he asks impatiently, "Let Hawke sign the contract!"

"Oh, right," Bartrand shakes his head as though snapped out of a deep reverie, "Contract. Gotcha."

He opens a drawer and fumbles inside it, finally pulling out a white, solitary sheet of paper.

"We're in no hurry, Hawke" The Grumpy One tells me from behind his desk, "Take the contract, get yourself a lawyer, and read through it with them, clause by clause. I don't want any legal trouble from you or from anyone. If you don't like what you read in the contract, you can take back your money and leave. You hear?"

"I hear you," I nod once.

"Good," He hands me the contract, which I take and carefully fold before I stow it away in my messenger bag, "Are we done now?" he asks impatiently.

"We're done, brother," Varric replies gently, "We'll drop by in later in the afternoon with the signed contract."

Bartrand grunts his approval and focuses his attention on the envelope in his hands. Varric and I leave the bakery and head out to Varric's parked Bentley, which is attracting a small crowd of men even in swanky Hightown.

"All right now, coming through," Varric tells the crowd as we make our way to the car. I feel like I'm with a celebrity; people are actually taking pictures of it.

"Man, Varric," I shake my head and grin as soon as we're seated in the car's off-white leather seats, "You really spare no expense when it comes to your lifestyle, do you?"

"You only live once, Hawke," he replies smoothly as we reverse out of the parking space, "Might as well make the most of it."

"I agree," I grin, looking out the window at the admiring crowd, "If only I had the means to make the most of it."

"Oh, you will," he assures me with a grin, " _Bartrand's Bakery_  is the most successful bakery in all of Kirkwall. You'll see the money soon enough, my friend."

"I must be the luckiest person alive to have you as a friend, Varric."

"Oh, stop," he says in mock embarrassment, "You're making me blush now, Hawke."

I laugh and settle into my seat, enjoying the classy interior of the car. It's the first time I've ever taken a ride in it. Varric turned up unexpectedly at Gamlen's this morning to take me to Bartrand. Gamlen and Carver (who woke up much earlier than usual when he heard Gamlen's shocked reaction at the sight of such an expensive car) couldn't stop staring with bulging eyes and hanging jaws from the moment Varric arrived right until we drove off. Even Mother was speechless for a while.

"So, where're we heading now?" I ask.

"To a lawyer. I've been dealing with her for years now. Best attorney in Kirkwall. She specialises in criminal and commercial law, so she really comes in handy for my line of work."

I'm going to pretend he didn't just include the word 'criminal' as a way to describe his line of work.

"And… how much does this really great attorney charge for her services?" I ask, dreading the answer.

"Hawke, Hawke," Varric tuts and shakes his head, "How many times have I told you not to worry about the money? I've got it all covered, trust me."

"I'm not letting you pay a single cent on me, Varric!"

"Relax, Hawke, Gwenya's a good friend of mine. She won't charge me for a simple read through a contract."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

I exhale and look out the window. As we drive through Hightown, my thoughts drift over to Fenris, wondering what he's doing at this very moment.

"So," Varric breaks the brief silence, "I hear that you and that angsty Tevinter assistant of yours are becoming quite the item. Care to let me in on what's going on?" he waggles his eyebrows at me villainously. I feel my face turn hot but I play along nonetheless.

"Well, well, well! I never thought you were the type, Varric! I'm flattered!"

He laughs as he takes a U-turn, "It's the chest hair, isn't it? Women can never resist my chest hair!"

"How can you expect us to resist it when your entire chest is on display like that, in all its glory for the entire world to see?"

"You know you love it," Varric smirks, "But, seriously Hawke, as your friend, I feel like I'd be doing you a disservice if I didn't say something," He glances at me with a grave, almost concerned look on his face, "You do know that the guy is covered in spikes, like an angsty porcupine, right? From what I've heard about him, he might have some… issues."

 _Uh-oh. Does everyone know about Fenris'... slave issues?_

"Issues? What sort of issues?" I ask innocently.

"He's not the most sweet-tempered guy," Varric says, "He's got quite a fearsome reputation here in Kirkwall. No one talks to him or approaches him. He's just this dark, mysterious, solitary presence with a tendency to snap or glare at anyone who attempts to talk to him. I'm surprised you and him are getting along so well. I mean, remember how he nearly lost his marbles around Anders that night in the Hanged Man?"

"That's not fair, Varric," I say defensively, "Anders wasn't exactly being all nice and innocent. He provoked him."

"Anders is not the only one who infuriates the guy, Hawke. I had a chat with Alistair about him the other day… he wasn't too fond of the guy either."

 _Could you please stop referring to him as 'the guy'? He has a NAME_.

"Alistair's just hurt because I'm dating Fenris instead of him. And, you guys just don't know him," I say, my tone still defensive, "He's got a bit of a short temper, I know that. And serious trust issues. And he tends to be a bit… broody and angsty at times. But he's been through a lot, Varric. A tough life toughens you up. And Maker knows his life was tough."

"It's none of my business, so I won't ask about what exactly has he been through, but calling him a  _bit_  broody and angsty, Hawke? C'mon. We both know that's a  _serious_  understatement."

"He's… not like other people. He has this façade of hardness and stoicism, but underneath it all, he's burning with passion and intensity and…" I shake my head, unable to find the words to describe the strange being who has all but claimed my heart, "He's just different. Nobody's perfect, Varric. I'm not saying that he is. But… there's something about him. I can't point out specifically what it is. It's like he's not from this world. When I'm with him I…" I pause, sudden emotion flowing through me, "I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Varric reaches over and places his warm hand on my shoulder, "I just want what's best for you, Hawke. You're like a sister to me. I care about you. I don't want you getting hurt."

I smile warmly at his concerned, kind face, "I know you mean well, Varric. It's good to know someone's looking out for me. But, don't worry. I know what I'm doing."

"I certainly hope so," he sighs, "Don't get me wrong, Hawke. I have nothing against Fenris. I'm the one who introduced you to him, remember? Just… don't be blinded by love, Hawke. That never ends well."

I've never heard Varric sound so serious and… incredibly  _wise_. He's beginning to sound like my mother right now.

"I'll be fine," I assure him. That ends the conversation.

We arrive at a very corporate looking building shortly afterwards and park in the underground parking lot.

"I've never been to see an attorney before," I say in the air conditioned elevator.

"Consider yourself lucky, then," Varric says, "It usually isn't a good thing when you  _do_  need to see one. Well, unless the reason is to have one look over a contract that gives you ownership of half of one of the most successful businesses in Kirkwall, that is," he adds with a grin.

We get out on the fourth floor and head to the end of the corridor and turn left. Varric yanks open a heavy glass door and leads me into a small, simple and _very_  purple reception.

"Can I help-" The blonde receptionist stops midsentence when she sees Varric and a wide smile spreads across her face, "Varric! How good to see you again! Gwenya's just with a client right now, but she'll only be a moment longer."

"Hello, Anora," Varric flashes a charming smile at the receptionist, "Good to see you too, beautiful. Gwenya can take her time. We're in no rush."

We sit on a deep purple velvet couch and wait. Varric looks perfectly at home as he pulls out his Blackberry and starts texting rapidly. I look around and study the room.

The walls are painted a pale, lilac colour. The carpet on the floor is of a deep, aubergine shade, and there are red cushions scattered on the purple couches. On the mahogany coffee table in front of us, there is a large, beautiful and ultra-glossy purple vase housing red roses. It's all very interesting and… vibrant. Something tells me that this isn't the norm for all law offices.

Then, the sudden and sharp sound of a woman's voice makes me jump in my seat.

"We'll sort it out, Orsino. Don't let Meredith get to you."

"Thank you, Gwenya," a pale and handsome middle-aged man says as he walks out of what must be the attorney's office, "That madwoman and her constant law suit threats are really starting to bother me."

"She'll cool down," says the same disembodied female voice, "She always does."

"I certainly hope so," says the middle-aged man called Orsino, "I'll see you in a week then, Gwenya." He nods before he turns around, smiles at Anora and us, and swiftly leaves the office.

"You can go in now," Anora smiles at us from behind the reception desk. Varric gets up and stretches, winking at me and beckoning me to follow him into the office.

Unsurprisingly, the actual office is as purple and red as the reception, if not more so. Seated behind a large, intimidating mahogany desk is a curt looking woman, around her late twenties or early thirties, with strange, dark hair with a purple sheen to it and overly pale skin.

"Varric!" she says, standing up from her seat, "How good to see you again! How can I help?" I notice that she completely disregards me.

"Good to see you too, Gwenya," Varric smiles, "I'm here with the newest addition to my brother's famous bakery. Hawke, this is Gwenya. Gwenya, this is Hawke, Bartrand's new business partner."

"Hawke," Gwenya says, extending her hand. Her eyes are the most peculiar shade of a purplish blue, almost as though she's wearing purple tinted lenses.

"A pleasure to meet you, Gwenya," I smile, taking her hand in mine. Her palm is very cold against my own.

"And you," she replies. She drops my hand and sits back down, "So, what can I do for you today?"

We then proceed to go over the contract together for the next hour or so. I sign it in her presence after she gives us her approval, and we thank her and leave after a full ten minutes of Varric insisting that she join us for drinks for a celebration in the Hanged Man later tonight. Something tells me that elegant and sophisticated lawyers such as Gwenya don't necessarily frequent the tavern much. Which is probably why she persistently refused the offer.

"Congratulations, Hawke," Varric grins and claps my back as we make our way to his car, "You are now officially a partner of  _Bartrand's Bakery_. You're going to be a very wealthy woman, Hawke. Mark my words."

I smile widely, itching to get back to my family and tell them the terrific news.

* * *

"What time is your flight?"

I trace the markings on the back of Fenris' hand absentmindedly as the wind blows around us on the edge of the pier.

"Seven," I reply, "Gotta be awake by four and be at the airport by five. Ugh."

Only two weeks after signing the contract, my first 'assignment' as a partner is to travel with Bartrand to Rivain to discuss a prospective business deal with Rivaini clients to open a branch of the bakery there. Bartrand only told me about it and gave me the plane ticket this afternoon. And the flight is first thing tomorrow morning.

Talk about prior notice.

"So early," Fenris murmurs, his lips moving against the top of my head. He inhales deeply and sighs, "For how long will you be gone?"

"A week at the most. Bartrand said it shouldn't take long. Just a simple business proposal, a few sample tastings and that's it."

"A week," he says. I'm leaning against the railings on the edge of the pier, looking out at the ink black ocean and the large, dark silhouette of the Gallows, with Fenris standing behind me. His arms tighten around me and he brings his lips to the area between my neck and shoulder.

"I'll miss you," he murmurs, his lips stroking the length of my neck. I shudder and close my eyes, trying my best not to moan out loud.

"I'll miss you too," I whisper, turning around in his grasp to face him, "So, so much."

I cup his darling face in my hands and look into his eyes, drowning in their warm, moss-green shade. He leans in and kisses me, his body pressing against mine.

"It's getting cold," he says in a raw voice when we pull apart, "And late. You should head home and get some sleep before your flight."

"I don't want to go home," I say, stroking the hair away from his eyes, "I want to stay with you. Everything's already packed and I can sleep on the plane."

He smiles down at me, "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

We kiss again before we head to my car and drive to his mansion.

"What would you like to drink?" he asks as he locks the front door behind us.

"Just water, thanks."

"I'll only be a minute," he says as he shrugs out of his coat, "Head over upstairs. It's warmer by the fire."

We both head off in opposite directions, me going upstairs to his bedroom, him heading to the left of the ground floor to the kitchen. As soon as I step into his room, the warmth of the fire washes over me. I take off my coat and scarf and slump onto one of the chairs by the table, stretching my legs and closing my eyes.

When I open them next, I feel something soft under the full length of my body, and I feel much warmer than I expected to. It takes me a while to realise that I'm lying on a bed with the covers pulled up to my chin.

I sit up, feeling utterly bewildered at finding myself in a bed. And not just anyone's bed.

 _Fenris'_  bed.

"Welcome back," a low, familiar voice says. I look around, my eyes squinting against the bright glare of the dancing flames in the fireplace, when I finally see him seated on one of the wooden benches by the fire, a glass of red wine in his hand.

"How…" I blink, trying to make sense of my present situation, "Why was I… asleep? In your bed?"

He chuckles and sets his wine glass down on the bench before he gets up and slowly makes his way towards his bed. He sits on the edge, right by my feet, and smiles.

"You were asleep when I came back with our drinks," he explains softly, "I didn't wanna wake you so…" he looks down and purses his lips, "I carried you to bed. You've been asleep for the past four hours or so."

" _What?_ " I scramble to get out of bed, but he puts a strong hand on my legs and stops me from moving, "What time is it? Did I miss my flight?"

"Relax," he says soothingly, "It's only two. You've still got another three hours till you have to leave for the airport."

I instantly relax and sink back into the soft bed.

"Have you been awake all this time?" I ask him after a moment of silence.

"Yes," he nods, "Have a lot on my mind."

"Is everything all right?" I ask with concern.

"You're here, are you not?" he smiles as he strokes my leg from over the cover, "So, everything's fine."

I'm not sure whether it's the fact that we're both sitting on his bed, whether it's what he just said, whether it's the smile he flashes me or whether it's the way he's stroking my leg, but something possesses me and makes me lean forward and grab him by the collar, pulling his face down to mine and covering his lips with my own.

His response is almost frantic. He grabs my face with his warm hands and crawls on top of me, the bed cover still draped across my body. I feel my heart rapidly drumming in my chest and I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. The full weight of his body over mine, I groan as I feel his tongue in my mouth, and I press my hands firmly against the back of his shoulders, pressing him as close as possible to me, tasting the wine on his lips and tongue.

 _We're doing it! It's happening! I can't believe it, but this is actually happening!_

Feeling encouraged by his enthusiastic reaction, I place my right leg over his hips and roll over on top of him, our lips still connected.

"Marian," he groans as I straddle him. I slow down the kiss, blindly reaching my fingers to his shirt to unbutton it. I manage to unbutton it halfway down his torso, at which point I pull my lips away and glance down at his bare, heaving chest.

The markings. They're… they're everywhere. Beautiful and intricate and delicate.

As much as they were a painful infliction, that doesn't take away from their beauty. They are unlike anything I have ever seen. The contrast created between the white of the lyrium and the caramel of his skin is almost  _delicious_.

I lean in and kiss his neck, tracing down along the white lines. When I reach his chest, I feel his breathing hitch as his hand reaches over to the back of my head, caressing me lightly.

"Marian," he gasps again. I look up at his face, still planting light kisses on his chest. His eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open. His skin is hot against my lips, and I feel scorching heat radiating from on my own skin as well. I also feel incredibly aroused, which is… not a familiar feeling at all, really.

I make my way to his nipple and kiss it before teasing it with my tongue.

I feel him stiffen instantly beneath me.

 _Shit. Wrong move?_

I immediately stop and look up at his flushed face. He's looking at me, his green eyes fearful.

"I… I can't do this," he quietly says.

As though shocked by an electric current, I sit up immediately and slide off him, blushing profusely.

"I…" I stutter and avert his gaze, feeling incredibly stupid, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… I don't know what came over me-"

I feel his warm palms instantly cover the sides of my face, and when I look up, I see the familiar warmth of his moss-green eyes.

"No," he says, stroking my face with his thumbs, "It's not you. I swear it's not you, Marian. I… I have a lot of emotional baggage. Loads of it. I want to be with you. I want that more than anything else. But… I'm not ready for that yet. I just…" he looks down, closing his eyes as he shakes his head, "I can't. Not now."

I still feel incredibly stupid. What in Thedas possessed me to pull him over me like that?  _What?_

"I shouldn't have done that," I mumble, looking down at my thighs, "I shouldn't have lunged at you like that."

"You have no idea how much I wanted you to 'lunge' at me, as you put it," he smiles. I feel his gaze back upon my face, but I'm too embarrassed to meet it, "If you didn't do it, I probably would have. Seeing you in my bed like that… there's a limit to self-restraint, no matter how strong it may be."

"I don't want to rush you into anything," I say.

"It's been over five months since we first met, so I wouldn't call this rushing. Not under normal circumstances. But... I've been through some serious shit, Marian. I thought I was over it... I  _want_ to be over it," he exhales slowly as he continues to watch my face.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I offer.

He thinks for a moment before he replies, "No. I shouldn't trouble you with this. My problems are not yours."

"I'm still willing to listen."

"To my whining?" he chuckles, "How very charitable of you," he pauses, contemplating something. "Maybe another time," he says.

"Whenever you want to," I smile. He smiles back and kisses me softly before he abruptly pulls away.

"Maybe we should leave the bed?" he suggests with a smirk, "It doesn't exactly help with the self-restraint thing."

I laugh and hop off, still feeling hot from our... recent activity.

We spend the next hour or so sipping on water and talking about anything other than…well… intimacy, in an attempt to keep the atmosphere as comfortable and as awkward-free as possible. Then, four o'clock arrives, which means that I have to head back home to get my luggage and meet Bartrand at the airport.

At the front door, Fenris takes me in his arms and holds me to him for the longest while without saying anything. I close my eyes, my face buried against his chest, my ears listening to his heart beating steadily inside it.

"Are you sure you don't want me accompanying you to the airport?" he asks when we pull apart just enough to look at each other's faces.

"The airport's extremely far and you don't have a car to drive back, since you so adamantly refused to use mine while I'm away. And the airport taxis cost a fortune. Unless you've changed your mind about agreeing to take my car...?" I raise my eyebrows. I offered him to use my car in my absence nearly ten times already, but he won't budge.

"No, your car is yours to use, not mine," he says.

 _So stubborn_.

"Stay safe," he whispers, his eyes burning into mine.

"And you."

He closes his eyes and kisses my forehead, keeping his lips there for a while before finally unlocking the front door and seeing me out.

Halfway to my car, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around just in time to see Fenris jogging towards me.

Before I could say or do or think anything, he pulls me in and kisses me long and deep, his fingers snaking into my hair and grabbing it a bit too hard.

"I almost let you go without a final kiss," he says, the corner of his lips twitching up into a half-smile.

"Don't use that word," I quickly tell him.

"What word?"

"Final. Don't say that."

His smile falters as he stares at me intently. He doesn't say anything. He just stares.

"I'd better get going," I say softly.

He blinks, "Of course," he mumbles, his eyes darting down to the ground.

I want to see that beautiful green one last time before I leave. I  _need_  to see it.

"Fenris," I don't say anything else until he looks up at me, "I… I'll call you when I land."

He nods, watching me silently.

After one last gentle squeeze of the hand, I resume my way to my car, wave at him as I start it, freak out when I see the time on the dashboard, and drive off, purposely avoiding the rear view mirror to avoid seeing him and slamming on the breaks for one more kiss.

When I arrive at the airport, Bartrand is already waiting for me, his personal assistant leaning against the luggage trolley by the check-in counter.

"You're early," Bartrand grunts up at me when I approach them, "Good. Got your passport ready?"

"Yep."

"Good," he says again, "Let's check ourselves in."

We check in and head off to the Business Class lounge of Kirkwall International Airlines. Since my luggage is relatively small, I'm allowed to keep it with me. We have breakfast at the lounge and wait out the next two hours.

"Say, partner," Bartrand grunts after shovelling down a plate of chocolate croissants, "I was thinking about getting a gift for a friend. You wouldn't mind heading over to the duty free and getting this perfume for me?" he hands me a catalogue showcasing luxury items available for sale in the duty free.

"Not at all," I say.

"Excellent," he says, his pale blue eyes glinting in a way that makes me uncomfortable, "Here's the money for it. You can keep your stuff here, Sandal and I will keep an eye on it," Sandal being his assistant, by the by.

"Okay," I shrug. I take the money and the catalogue and make my way to the duty free section of the airport.

I get the gift in a matter of minutes and head back to the lounge just in time to board the plane.

This isn't the first time I've been on business class; we travelled in it once with Dad a long time ago. But, that doesn't mean that I'm not utterly impressed by it. I mean, I barely remember what it was like as a child, but this is just  _grand_. The food and the service and the space! It's incredible. I could definitely get used to this.

It's a seven hour flight. I'm so excited, I can barely sit still in my (incredibly spacious) seat. The farthest I've ever travelled to was Orlais when I was eleven. We went to Disney World and stood right on top of the Eiffel Tower. It was one of the best holidays ever.

I never sleep in planes. Like, ever. No matter how long the flight is, I just never sleep. It's not intentional or anything. I just spend my time watching movie after movie after movie and never get tired or sleepy. This time, I'm watching  _Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows Part 2_  over and over again. By the time we land, I watched it three times in a row.

Yeah. I'm a  **huge** Harry Potter geek. Always have been.

I feel quite disappointed that I didn't get a window seat for this flight. I love looking down at the mountains and oceans and roads as the plane slowly descends into its destination.

We get off the plane and head straight to customs. All the while, I notice that Bartrand is taking great care to make sure that he's walking a fair distance ahead of me. I guess that's just him trying to show me who's the leader in this partnership. Whatever, dude. I hate leading anyway.

I place my luggage on the luggage screening belt and walk through the screening gate.

As I wait for my luggage to reappear at the other end of the belt, I feel two pairs of strong hands gripping my shoulders. I whirl around and stare up at two, swarthy and burly security guards.

"You're going to have to accompany us, messere," one of the guards tells me.

"What? Why? Is there something wrong?" I ask them, fear quickly creeping into me.

"Don't try acting all innocent on us, missy," the other guard tells me in a sharp tone, "We come across dealers like you on a daily basis. Now come on. Your luggage is already in the security room."

"Se-security room?" I stammer, "De-Dealers? What are you…" I feel lightheaded. Dizzy. Like the entire world is spinning around. My eyes dart around customs, frantically searching for a glimpse of Bartrand and his assistant.

They're nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Arquen: Your Christmas gift, brain twin! Gwenya has finally been introduced to the story! I hope you like how I've written her so far. I've always said you should be a lawyer ;) Now, a part of you is one, in some weird, alternate universe that exists solely in my head. Muahahahaha.


	23. Chapter 23

I'm being groped.

My breasts are being squeezed and my bum is being fondled and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

"There's nothing on her," a stern-looking female officer says.

"Take her clothes off," an older woman commands.

"What?" I gasp, staring at the two women, my eyes wide and fearful.

"Take them off, Officer Cassandra," the older woman repeats in a hard, steely tone, " _Now_."

The woman called Cassandra faces me against a wall and quickly begins to pull off first my coat, then my shirt, followed by my jeans, my entire body warm and flushed with embarrassment. When she starts to pull down my underwear, I let out a strangled whimper.

I know what they're going to do. They're going to conduct a search.

An  _internal_  search.

"Please," I whisper, my voice trembling, "I have nothing on me, I swear.  _Please_ …"

"Silence!" the older woman commands. I instantly obey her and stifle a sob, my entire body shaking violently, "Officer Cassandra, you are familiar with the procedure for body cavity searches?" she asks the dark haired Cassandra.

"Of course, Sergeant Flemeth," Cassandra replies, "Visual or manual?"

Sergeant Flemeth stares at me for a while, her yellow eyes glinting malevolently.

"Visual," she finally says. I let out a sob of relief. Having a manual search conducted with this Cassandra woman's hand probing my genitals would have been worse than death to me. Worse. Than.  _Death_.

Officer Cassandra methodically washes her hands, puts on a pair of gloves, washes her gloved hands again and takes a flashlight before she turns back to me, a stern and incredibly detached expression on her tanned face.

She proceeds to direct me as she focuses the light on every orifice in my body, starting with my nostrils, mouth, ears and navel.

Then, the dreaded search.

As if my shaking wasn't already uncontrollable to begin with, it now intensifies tenfold.

"I'm not going to touch anything," Cassandra says, "If I need anything moved, lifted or pulled back, you will be the one to do it."

 _Moved? Lifted? Pulled back?_

 _Great_. Because touching myself to give this complete stranger a clear view of my vagina and rectum is  _that_ much better.

I… don't exactly want to go into detail with this part. All I'll say is that I was required to bend over and squat and that a blaring light was directed up my genitals. I shut my eyes tight the entire time, trying my best to ignore the fact that there was a woman between my legs. Literally.

"Nothing, Sergeant," Cassandra says as she stands up and turns off the flashlight.

"Put her clothes back on and take her into custody," the stern old woman says, "We've got enough evidence to charge her."

 _Charge me?_

"For what?" I ask, my throat incredibly dry. The old woman merely ignores me and sweeps out of the security room.

I feel my knees buckle as I see Cassandra pulling handcuffs from her waist after directing me to put on my clothes. She starts to approach me but pauses when she sees the look on my face, whatever it is.

"You should have known this would happen," she says, "Smuggling in narcotics is an incredibly serious offense here in Rivain."

Say  _what_?

"But I… I never…" my voice trails off as I shake my head in disbelief.

"I advise you to refrain from saying anything further until you have an attorney present, serah," Cassandra tells me in a formal tone, "We have more than enough evidence to charge you. Your luggage has already been taken to the police."

She turns my frozen body around and handcuffs my wrists. I allow her to handle me as she pleases. It feels as though I have no strength left in me to move a single muscle. As she and two more officers who were waiting outside lead me out of the security room and through the airport, I am vaguely aware of the several cameras flashing around us. Everything is muted, as though I've suddenly gone deaf. I merely stare ahead, my eyes unfocused, my mind blank. I remain in this zombie-like state throughout the long ride to the Rivain State prison.

The crying only ensues once the sound of the metallic bars clinging shut echoes in my head and vibrates in my heaving chest.

* * *

"Wake up. You have a visitor."

The sound of someone banging on the bars startles me awake. I look around my cell from my metal cot, blinking in confusion. I sit up and rub my eyes, squinting at the guard outside my cell.

"A visitor?" I ask.

"What are you, deaf?" the scrawny man says, "Yes, a visitor. You've got ten minutes, so get a move on."

Excitement taking over me, I jump off my cot and run to the bars, waiting as the guard fumbles with his keys to unlock the cell. As soon as I'm out, two guards, the one who woke me up and an additional woman, take each of my arms and lead me to the visitors' room, the two of them flanking me on either side.

"Varric!"

There he is, my lovable dwarf, seated at a metal table (everything seems to be made of metal in this place. I wonder if all prisons are like that), looking up at me with a look of utmost concern.

"Hawke!" he exclaims, shooting up from his seat to approach me.

"Please remain in your seat, serah," the female guard sternly says as she and the other guard lead me to the table.

"Oh. Right. Sorry," Varric mumbles as he slowly resumes his seat.

"Ten minutes," the male guard says. Varric and I both watch as he and his partner walk towards the door and stand there, arms crossed, watching us.

"All right, Hawke, we don't have much time," he quickly says in a low voice, "Tell me exactly what happened."

I proceed to tell him about everything that happened between meeting Bartrand at the airport in Kirkwall and being taken into custody here in Rivain.

"That son of a bitch!" Varric swears heatedly, "Sorry, mother, but I can't believe this!"

"What?" I ask with confusion, "What does Bartrand have to do with this?"

Varric sighs and scoots his chair closer to the metal table between us.

"Hawke, why do you think Bartrand asked you to go buy that so called gift of his while he 'waited' in the lounge?"

"Because… well, I thought he did that because he wanted to show me who's boss. You know, to try to emphasise the fact that I'm the junior in the partnership and that he can boss me around whenever he wants. I assumed that's also why he walked way ahead of me when we arrived in Rivain. Right?" I ask with uncertainty.

"Wrong," Varric says as he shakes his head, "Maker's breath, Hawke, are you really that clueless?" He sighs again, "Guess I can't blame you. You don't know Bartrand. You don't know that son of a bitch (sorry again, mother)."

"Well?" I ask impatiently after a pause, "Are you going to explain what happened, then?"

"Five more minutes," one of the guards calls out.

 _Fuck this!_

"I'm going to have to make this super quick, Hawke," Varric says, leaning in closer to me, "Bartrand only asked you to buy him that gift so that he could plant the cannabis in your bag. As soon as you landed, he made a run for it."

I stare at Varric, stunned into silence.

"Why… why would he do that?" I whisper.

"Because he's a twisted, nug-humping bastard who probably changed his mind and decided that he wants all the profits to himself," Varric says venomously, "He took your money and framed you to get out of the entire partnership deal. And just to make sure you don't go after him, he framed you with Rivain's most serious crime. He's no where to be found now. The bastard's all but disappeared."

"Most serious crime? What, there's no murder or rape here?"

"Smuggling in drugs is of the same level of seriousness here," Varric says, "And it was the easiest way for Bartrand to get rid of you," He shakes his head again, his expression filled with disgust, "I can't believe he did this. I mean, I always knew Bartrand was a selfish bastard, but  _this_? This is fucking ridiculous!"

"So, what are we going to do?" I ask, my hands shaking on the cold metal of the table.

"Time's up!" the guards call out. I look up, my eyes widening with fear as I see them approaching me.

"Fuck!" Varric swears, "Don't worry, Hawke. Gwenya will be here in two days max. She's the best attorney in Kirkwall, I swear she'll get you out of this. I  _swear_ ," he takes my trembling hands in his and squeezes them tight.

"No touching!" the female guard loudly says. She and her male companion take me by the arms and lift me up from my chair.

"I'll be back tomorrow, Hawke!" Varric calls out as I'm led out of the visiting room, "I'm not leaving you alone in this shit! We'll get you out, don't worry!"

I nod numbly and try my best to find my voice to request something of Varric.

"Don't tell Mother," I say as loudly as I can, "Please. Don't tell her."

"I won't," Varric promises.

A tear rolls down my cheek as the door shuts after us, blocking me from the only familiar face in this foreign, ruthless country.

* * *

It's been two weeks.

Two entire weeks of incarceration.

Two entire weeks of lonely confinement. Two weeks of restless sleeps on a cold, hard, metal cot. Two weeks of scarce meals of stale bread and cheese.

Two weeks without hearing Fenris' voice and seeing his intelligent moss-green eyes.

Varric stuck true to his word. He visits me every single day without fail. He told my mother that the business deal is taking longer than anticipated, which is why I won't be home for a while yet. For how long that lie will survive, I have no idea. Not too long, I'm sure. I mean, if I end up being imprisoned here for the next few months, I'm going to have to tell her the truth.

Gwenya, my attorney, also makes frequent visits. Since she's my attorney and not just any visitor, I'm allowed an entire hour with her on a daily basis. She's incredible. I mean, I'm not well versed in the area of law and whatnot, but she  _really_  knows her stuff. And she's really young too, for someone as experienced as she is. At first, the vibe between us was painfully formal. But as the days progressed, we started to grow closer and the atmosphere warmed, which is something I never expected because she seems like a… I don't know… difficult person to get close to? Like she has barriers set up around her to never allow anyone too close. Sort of like Fenris, but a bit less guarded.

I seem to have a gift with guarded, outwardly cold and stoic people. We click.

Ever since Gwenya's arrival, I've started to relax, but only minutely. She's already having my luggage and the plastic cannabis bag tested for fingerprints, and I'm a hundred per cent certain that the results will turn out to my advantage because I absolutely did  _not_  put that cannabis in there.

I have no idea what time it is because my phone's been confiscated ever since I was first taken into custody, and I was never in the habit of wearing a wrist watch. What's more is the lack of a window in my cell. I already had dinner a while ago (which consisted of stale bread and a slice of cheese. Again.), and that's always served at six, so I'm guessing it's around eight or nine right about now.

I'm curled up on the metal cot, my mind far, far away in Kirkwall, hearing his voice in my ears, feeling his strong, lean arms around me...

Feeling his soft, full lips against mine.

So, maybe that's why it doesn't fully register in my brain when I hear the commotion outside my cell. When I hear that unbelievably familiar voice yelling outside in the grey prison corridor, echoing off the old walls.

When that voice calls out my name, frantic and insistent.

"Hawke? Hawke! Get your fucking hands off me! I want to see her!"

"You can't see her! No visitors allowed after four!"

" _Fuck_  you and your rules! Where is she? Hawke? HAWKE!"

 _Maker's breath_.

 _Am I dreaming?_

 _I must be dreaming. I dosed off on the cot and now, I'm dreaming_.

But the loud thud I hear sounds  _so_  real.

And the vibrations that shake my cot as soon as I hear that thud are just as real.

I sit up when I hear the sound of footsteps sprinting towards my cell.

"Hawke!"

I gasp and feel as though my eyes will pop out of their sockets at any second.

I spring off the cot and rush to the metal bars, unable to believe my eyes.

"Fenris!" I breathe, staring at him from behind the bars.

"Marian," he whispers, his knuckles white from gripping the bars, "I… I was going mad… I didn't know where you were, what happened to you! I kept calling but your phone was always off…" he's panting as though he'd been running for a quite a while, "I called Varric and came here as soon as he told me. I can't…" he looks at me, his eyes wide and full of both relief and disbelief, "I'm going to  _kill_  that motherfucking dwarf!"

I put my shaking hand through the bars to touch his face. I still can't believe he's real. Even after having him right in front of me, feeling his hot breath against my face and smelling his familiar musky scent, I'm still convinced I'm having an incredibly vivid dream. When I feel his cold, clammy skin against my palm, I let out a strange, stifled sort of whimper and my knees buckle beneath me.

"It's really you," I whisper.

He stares at me, his eyebrows knitted together, his eyes searching my face. He reaches his own hand in and gently strokes my cheek.

"I'm here," he whispers, a faint, warm smile forming on his lips.

I want to wrap my arms around him and hold him to me. I want to feel his warm, hard body against mine, feel the strength of his arms as he embraces me, kissing me and whispering that everything will be all right.

But I can't. And I hate that I can't. I hate that there are metal bars between us, separating two lovers from each other and preventing us from doing any more than touching each other's faces with the tips of our fingers.

I hate it so much that I break down and cry.

"Hawke…" he says, his voice filled with pain, "Please. Don't do this. I can't… I can't see you like this. I can't bear it…"

I grip the metal bars with both of my hands for support as I continue to sob, my body trembling violently from head to toe. I rest my forehead against the metal, my sobs echoing throughout the deserted corridor. None of the other prisoners bother telling me to quiet down. They all know my story, and some of them even believe me. Whether they will inform the guards of Fenris' break-in is the last thing on my mind right now.

Fenris merely watches me in a state of apparent helplessness.

"What if I never get out?" I ask through my tears, "What if I'm found guilty and stay here for the rest of my life? It's a  _life_  sentence for drug smuggling, Fenris!"

"You won't be found guilty," he tells me firmly, "Hawke, look at me.  _Look_  at me," he repeats indignantly when I don't do as he asked. I quiet down and sniff as I blink up at him. He reaches in both hands to wipe the tears from my eyes, "You're going to leave this place soon. I promise you. Varric's gotten you the best lawyer in Kirkwall. And, you're innocent. That's all that matters, Hawke. You. Are. Innocent."

"That didn't stop them from locking me up for the past two weeks. Who's to say they won't lock me up for another two months? Or two years? Or-"

"Stop it," he chastises me, "Stop talking like that. That won't happen. I won't let that happen."

"You can't do anything about it!" I say, my voice getting louder, "This is a crime we're talking about here, Fenris. It's a fucking  _crime_!"

"Which you have nothing to do with," he says. He fixes his eyes on mine, intensity burning within them, "I will do whatever it takes to get you out of here. If Gwenya doesn't succeed, I'll find you a lawyer who will. You have my word. You are not staying here for a crime you haven't committed. Do you hear me?"

I nod weakly, still sniffing.

"Good," he says. He silently watches me as he continues to gently wipe away my tears with his thumbs. I eventually stop sniffing and completely calm down. He smiles warmly as he gazes into my red, puffy eyes and rests his forehead against the bars, his warm breath blowing against my wet face.

"How did you get in here?" I ask after a stretch of silence.

"I bribed every guard on the way to your section of the prison. This idiot here," he nods his head in the direction of the night watch guard's station, "Wouldn't let me through. I had to… incapacitate him, so to speak."

"He isn't hurt, is he? The last thing I want is for you to get into trouble."

"No, he isn't," Fenris replies, "He's just going to be out cold for a while. Let's just say he's taking a nice, long nap," he smirks.

"What about the security cameras?"

"Snuck past them. I'm very adept at sneaking," he grins. I smile weakly back at him and gasp when an idea pops into my head.

"Does the guard have the key to my cell?"

"No," Fenris shakes his head, frowning "I checked."

 _Darn it_.

I sigh and rest against the bars, my forehead touching Fenris'.

"I was going mad," he whispers, "I've never felt so… scared. No…  _terrified_. I didn't know what happened to you and where you were…" he shudders and squeezes his eyes shut at an unpleasant thought, "You frightened me. Before I found you, there was a moment when I…" he exhales loudly, "Don't do that again."

"Do what again? Get framed with a drug smuggling charge and get incarcerated in a foreign country?"

"Don't just leave me in the dark like that!" he says, his voice getting heated, "You're allowed to use the prison phones, you should have called me! You can't even  _begin_  to imagine the torture I was going through…"

His voice breaks towards the end. I focus on his eyes and realise that they're glinting. Almost as though tears are starting to well up in them.

Maker's breath. He's nearly crying.

Because of me.

Because he couldn't bear the thought of losing me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "You're right. I should've called. I just didn't want to freak people out, you know? I called Varric because he's been involved with the partnership deal and whatnot and because he's the first person who popped into my mind. He knows Gwenya and Bartrand's his brother, so, it made sense to contact him first. My own mother has no idea what's going on."

"What?" he lifts his head from the bars and straightens up, staring at me, "Aren't you going to tell her?"

"If this gets out of hand, I will. Right now, she thinks the business trip is taking a bit longer than anticipated but… I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up the charade if this goes on for much longer."

"Hmm," he rests his forehead against the bars again, "When are the fingerprint test results coming out?" he asks quietly.

"I'm not sure. Gwenya said it could take up to a couple of days, so probably tomorrow at the latest."

"Good. Once we have evidence to back you up, you're out. I just know it."

At least one of us is being optimistic. Which is a rarity for Fenris, mind you.

He pulls out his phone and checks the time.

"Fuck," he glances over his shoulder at the unconscious guard, "He'll be up soon. I'd better get going."

My hands fly back to the bars and grip them tightly.

"Will you come see me during visiting hours?" I ask imploringly.

"Of course," he replies, barely allowing me to finish my sentence, "I'm not leaving this place until you're out and next to me on the flight back to Kirkwall. I'll visit you every single day."

"No more breaking in, though."

"No more breaking in. Unless you want me to," he adds with a smirk.

"I'll let you know if I change my mind."

He smiles and cups my face in his palms, bringing it as close to the bars as possible. He leans in and our lips meet for the first time in two weeks. I gasp and feel an electric jolt surge through me as soon as our lips touch. The kiss is quick, passionate,  _urgent_. We're both panting when he reluctantly pulls away.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," he whispers, his eyes burning into mine, "I'll be there as soon as visiting hours start."

I nod and smile at him, feeling a little lightheaded from the surprising events of this amazing, amazing night.

I watch him from behind the bars as he swiftly and very quietly makes his way down the corridor towards the exit. He steps over the unconscious guard and pauses with his hand on the door knob, turning to look at me.

"I love you," I whisper. I know that he can't hear me. Perhaps I don't want him to. Just saying it with him in my line of vision is enough to placate me.

He nods once, as though he heard me, though I know for sure that he hasn't. He quietly opens the door and slips out, shutting it behind him without a single sound.

I curl up on the metal cot, feeling significantly warmer than I have in a long time, and for the first time in two weeks, I fall into a deep, soundless slumber.


	24. Chapter 24

_Negative_.

The big, black, bold letters jump out at me from the white piece of paper in my trembling hands.

 **NEGATIVE**.

There is absolutely no trace of my DNA on the cannabis.

Even though I was absolutely certain that I didn't put that cannabis in my bag (heck, I've never even  _seen_  drugs before in my entire life, excluding seeing them on television), I still break down and cry. I set the test results down and cover my face with my hands, my elbows pressing against the cold, metal of the solitary table in the visitors' room. Gwenya rubs my back gently, but she doesn't say anything. She allows me to cry until I finally shut up.

I've been doing a lot of crying lately. Quite frankly, my suddenly excessive emotionality is beginning to piss me off.

"Thank you," I say in a thick voice, wiping my nose (I'm  _disgusting_ ) on my sleeve.

"I was just doing my job," Gwenya says with a hint of a warm smile on her full, lipstick-laden lips. She pulls out a mini packet of tissues from her pocket, "Now all we have to do is take it to court and you'll be out before you know it."

"Will I?" I ask through my incessant sniffing.

Her expression turns grave and she places her pale hand over mine before hastily pulling it away, "You will. I promise."

I smile and place both my hands over hers, and for once, she doesn't look like she's about to jerk away from someone's touch.

"Thank you," I whisper again with ferocious sincerity.

* * *

They stopped Fenris from seeing me today.

When I yelled out from my cell, demanding why his visit was denied, I was told that he was visiting me "far too frequently for (their) liking".

 _Fucking idiots_.

Don't they understand that he's practically my life force right now? That he's the only person in the entire world who actually makes me  _happy_? That he's the only one who can bring a smile to my face and a warm glow to my soul even in this dingy, dark prison cell?

"Will you let me see him tomorrow?" I ask one of the guards.

"If you're lucky," he responds coldly.

"Fuck you and fuck this entire country," I mutter under my breath. Isn't it ironic that one of my best and closest friends is from this shithole?

Speaking of which, I received a letter from Isabela this morning. It was blotched, as though she was tearful as she wrote it, which is highly unlikely. It's most probably a few drops of whatever drink it was she was guzzling. Isabela was never the emotional type.

Anyway, she explained to me that she begged Oghren, who is still part owner of the Hanged Man, to let her take a leave of absence to come and see me, but he absolutely refused. When she asked Varric, who is still here in Rivain, he told her that it was best not to get on Oghren's bad side and to just do as he says. You can imagine that I am very put out by that. Seeing Isabela's gorgeous and forever smirking face would do me wonders.

I'm being wilfully separated from everyone I love.

What is my LIFE?

I punch my hand against the grey brick wall and yell out in pain. When I examine the damage done, I see that the skin on my knuckles is cut and bleeding.

 _Super. Just super_.

It takes an hour- an entire  _hour_ \- to get bandages brought to me to wrap up my hand. If it was a more serious injury or if I was diabetic, I would most probably be dead right now.

Which is oddly tempting, considering my predicament.

Great. Now I'm turning suicidal.

Again, what is my fucking LIFE?

I stay up really late into the night, my ears straining for the slightest hint of a door creaking open or a guard being incapacitated (I still have to ask Fenris how he does that). After hours of hopeful anticipation, I finally fall asleep.

* * *

He's cold.

And wet.

And  _shirtless_.

He's cold and wet and shirtless and he's on top of me, his lips moving against mine.

He growls my last name, the sound emanating from somewhere deep within the confines of his chest.

But I'm paralysed.

I'm on the hard, metal cot and I can't move. I can't even kiss him back.

He snakes his long, slender fingers into my hair, trying to force my mouth open with his own.

"Kiss me, Hawke," he whispers hungrily against my closed lips, "Open your mouth and  _kiss_  me."

 _I can't! I can't kiss you! I can't move anything!_

I try to tell him this, but it's impossible.

 _What's going on?_

"Hawke," he hisses, his grasp of my hair tightening painfully, "I don't like this."

He forcefully presses his lips against mine, his grip on my hair so tight, it feels like he's about to tear fistfuls of it out in his indignant, fiery state. When I don't respond, he pulls away, panting, and looks at me intently, his expression  _hurt_.

And I just lie there, staring back at him with what I know is an utterly blank expression.

And I die a little inside.

He looks away after what feels like eons and slowly slides off of me. My eyes follow him as he picks up his black button up shirt and throws it on. He unlocks the metal bars and slides them open, looking at me one last time, only his eyes visible over his shoulder, before he steps out of my cell and shuts the sliding bars behind him, the deafening clang echoing inside my numb head with a painful ring of finality.

 _It's over_.

 _He's gone_.

I can't turn my head to see him but I know that he's gone because I can't hear his footsteps anymore.

I want to scream out his name and tell him to stop. To come back.

But I can't.

So I scream in my head. I yell his name out, begging him to come back as I feel hot tears roll down my temples and onto the cold, hard metal beneath me.

* * *

As soon as I see him, I devour him.

I just fling my arms around his neck, bring my mouth to his, and I devour him.

He's taken by surprise for only a fraction of a second before he wraps his arms around my waist and pushes his body against mine, kissing me back with an intensity and urgency that matches mine.

'Okay, that's enough!" one of the guards who brought me into the visitors room calls out from his place by the door. Before we pull away, Fenris gives me a quick, soft kiss and I bite his lower lip, which makes him tremble against me. The look in his bright green eyes when we finally step away from each other is one of mild amusement.

A far cry from the hurt, heart-wrenching look I saw in them last night.

"If this is the welcome I'm going to get whenever I'm not allowed to see you for a day, then I'll start skipping visiting days more often," he smirks from across the metal table.

"If you wanna drive me more insane then I already am, then go ahead and do just that," I say seriously. My tone wipes the smirk off his beautiful face.

"Hey," he says softly, leaning in closer to me, "I was only joking. Is everything all right, Marian? Varric told me about the results. That's great news, isn't it?"

"It is," I nod, "I just… Being imprisoned is just really taking its toll on me, that's all. It's not exactly the most jolly of situations to be in."

He's quiet as he studies my face.

"There's something else, isn't there?" he asks.

I purse my lips and glance at the window on the right end of the room.

"Well, yeah, but it's not a big deal. It really isn't," I add when he raises an ebony eyebrow up at me.

"Tell me."

"There's no need. I'll just waste whatever we have left of our ten minutes."

"Then stop wasting time and tell me."

I know that look. He's not going to let this go until I tell him.

 _So stubborn_.

"Fine. But just so you know, it's really stupid. Like,  _really_. So don't tell me I didn't warn you."

"I won't," he chuckles. The sound is like heaven to my ears.

I purse my lips to one side as I think of the simplest and quickest way to tell him.

"You left me. In a dream. Well, a  _nightmare_ , actually."

He stares at me for a brief moment before blinking twice.

"See? I told you it was stupid. I just wasted two minutes of our precious time together."

"No," he says in a low voice, his brow furrowed, "It's not stupid," he pauses and slightly narrows his eyes at me, "Do you know  _why_  I left you?"

"It was strange… I was paralysed from head to toe. I couldn't speak or do anything. The only thing I  _could_  do was move my eyes. You were just… talking to me. When I didn't respond, you just… left."

Okay, so I edited it a little bit. I mean, I'm not about to tell him that he was shirtless and all wet and sticky and horny and ravenously making out with my firmly closed lips.

No. I'm  _definitely_  not telling him that.

"Hmm," he nods slowly, his eyes slightly out of focus as he apparently mulls the dream over in his mind. "So when's the trial?" he asks soon afterwards.

"Gwenya's tendering the test results as evidence this afternoon, so it's soon, I guess."

"Good," he nods again. His eyes still look distant, like his thoughts are someplace else.

"All right, time's up."

 _Fuck this time's up shit!_

I quickly reach across the table to his marked, caramel hands and hold them in mine in a manner that is almost desperate.

"Fenris," I quickly whisper, my eyes darting towards the now approaching guards, "I…"

I want to tell him that he's the best thing that ever happened to me in my entire, unremarkable life.

That I  _love_  him.

He leans in, his brilliant green eyes filled to the brim with anticipation.

"I…"

 _Tell him, Hawke! Tell him!_

I look up at the two guards as they lift me off the chair from either side before I could utter another word. Fenris quickly springs out of his seat and follows me as I'm being led out of the room. I crane my neck in an attempt to see him before the small, chipped white door shuts behind me.

"Hawke!"

I'm craning my neck so hard, it hurts. But I see him. I see him jogging after me, his eyes wide and bright. The guard at the door stops him just as he's about to cross the threshold.

"Tell me when you're out, Hawke!" he calls out, the Rivaini guard's dark hand plastered firmly against his chest, "Tell me when you're next to me on the plane home!"

I nod weakly, my lips trembling as my eyes once again start to well up with tears.

* * *

I've never trembled so violently in my entire life.

I've never gripped something so  _hard_  in my entire life.

I'm standing in a cage on the far left side of the courtroom, like some sort of violent animal that needs to be barred from society because of the danger that it poses to it. In a way, that is how people must see me now. To them, I'm a criminal; a dangerous, drug-dealing criminal who needs to be thrown behind bars to cleanse this world and make it a better place. That's how I regard criminals. That's how I regard serial killers and murderers and rapists and arsonists. They need to be put away and taught a lesson for the horrible, despicable crimes they commit.

But I never imagined that I'd be considered as one of those people. As a  _criminal_. I never imagined that I would find my liberty, my  _life_ , in the hands of twelve ordinary people who have been randomly selected to decide my fate. But here I am, gripping the black metal bars in a large, high-ceilinged courtroom with a huge marble statue of Andraste looming behind the judge's seat.

My mother eventually found out (when three entire weeks passed since I left Kirkwall, Varric told me that she needed to be told and that my face was splashed all over newspapers and news reports anyway) and she's there, sitting in the first bench behind Gwenya's table, her eyes bloodshot and her lips pursed. Carver is next to her, staring off into the distance with a lost frown on his face. On her other side is Uncle Gamlen, looking very distraught. I see Izzy dressed up in a revealing low neck top, even on the sentencing day of a high profile criminal case, but her face clearly shows that showing off and being sexy is the last thing on her mind right now. Varric is there next to her, staring at the back of Gamlen's head, who's seated right in front of him.

Then, I see him.

And he's looking right at me.

He looks tired. I've been watching him closely for the past week, ever since this trial first started. He has dark circles under his eyes and his eyelids are heavy, almost as though he hasn't had any sleep.

I know I haven't.

The loud sounds of the public section of the court (where the public can stand and watch the proceedings) immediately die out when the black-robed judge walks into the courtroom. Everyone rises when they are told to, waits for the judge to arrive at his seat, and sits back down when he instructs them to.

Believe it or not, the judge is Fereldan, of all nationalities. There was a public outcry because people were convinced that he would be biased, but it was ignored. After all, nothing stops a Fereldan defendant from being tried by a Fereldan judge back in Ferelden itself. The same goes for all other nations. This trial just happens to be taking place in a foreign country.

The courtroom is eerily silent and all eyes are on Judge Loghain as he settles into his seat and shuffles around some files and papers. My eyes dart back to Fenris, who is the only one in the room still looking at me. He gives me (or tries to, I should say) an encouraging smile from across the room. I gulp and nod once.

He hasn't been allowed to visit me since the trial started. No one has. Not even my mother. The only face I was allowed to see was Gwenya's as she spent hours discussing her defence strategy with me and telling me all about the additional evidence she'd compiled.

She's  _amazing_. I think I'm officially in love with Varric.

The Bailiff approaches the jury foreman and takes a piece of paper from him.

 _The verdict_.

I feel my knees buckling as I watch the Bailiff hand the paper to the judge, who takes it in such a casual manner, as though he is being handed a menu or something else that is equally mundane. Once again, everyone is asked to rise along with the judge. He slips on his specs and calmly unfolds the piece of paper. My heart hammers against my ribs and I grasp the metal bars with all my strength to support my severely trembling body.

 _I'm going to pass out. I can't take this. I'm going to pass out NOW_.

Judge Loghain scans it for a fraction of a second before he looks up, his pale blue eyes directly meeting mine, and calls out the verdict.

"The members of the jury of the case of  _The People of Rivain against Marian Hawke_ , in the year 9:31 of the Dragon Age find the defendant, Marian Malcolm Hawke, not guilty of smuggling illegal narcotics in the form of cannabis into the nation. The defendant is to be released immediately."

The uproar in the courtroom is deafening. I'm just standing here, still behind bars, my mind completely blank.

I'm still blank when the guards unlock my cage and let me out. I'm still blank when my mother collides against me, clutching at me and sobbing hysterically into my ear. I'm still blank when Carver and Gamlen and Varric all chant out "She's out! She's out!" and when Izzy swears very loudly (which is apparently what she does when she's having an orgasm) and reaches for me, smothering me along with Mother.

I only snap back into my senses when I see a flash of bright yellow gazing at me from across the court.

 _Flemeth_.

She was the chief prosecutor for this case, and Maker was she  _adamant_  to keep me behind bars.

She continues to stare at me with her malevolent yellow eyes. I stare back, even as my family and friends continue to hug me and kiss me and thump me on the back.

Only when I feel a strong pair of hands grip either side of my face and feel soft, full lips against mine do I finally look away and focus on the beautiful, thick black eyelashes on Fenris' closed eyelids as he kisses me with a passion and urgency that dizzies me. I close my eyes and block out every other person and sound in the large, high-ceilinged room.

"You're coming home, Hawke," he whispers in his gravelly voice when he pulls away just enough to look into my eyes, his hands still cradling my face, "You're coming home."

I close my eyes and kiss the inside of his left palm. He strokes the side of my face with his thumb, his expression tender, and leans in to kiss me again.

* * *

"Carver, get the tripod!"

"I heard you, Mother!"

"Marian? Marian! Where are you? It's time to cut the cake!"

 _Darn it. Just when I finally managed to sneak off to the deserted library with my tattooed lover_.

I very reluctantly pull my lips away from his and sigh.

"Coming, Mother!" I look at Fenris and give him an exaggerated eye-roll, "I hate my own birthday parties," I complain. He smirks and watches my face before leaning in and planting numerous light kisses on my lips, my cheeks and my forehead, which is where his lips linger for a brief moment.

"Think of it as a New Year celebration," he murmurs against my forehead, "Which it is, technically."

I chuckle, "You're right."

He stands up straight and takes a few steps back towards the door, "C'mon," he smiles, extending his right hand towards me. The right side of his face is illuminated by the flames in the fireplace, making him look so damn ethereal and beautiful, it hurts. I smile and place my hand in his, the butterflies fluttering madly in my stomach when he raises it to his lips and kisses it softly.

His trademark move.

We walk hand in hand to the huge dining room of my newly purchased Amell mansion (now the Hawke mansion; I sold Bartrand's business and made a ridiculously large amount of money out of it. We're practically  _millionaires_  now.  _Crazy_ , right?), where everyone- Carver, Mother, Uncle Gamlen, Izzy, Merrill, Varric and Anders (yes, I invited him too. He did save Fenris' life after all. And he gave me the Underground map) - is already huddled around the large, vanilla and white chocolate cake on the ultra-polished marble dining table, waiting for me to arrive.

I really hate my own birthday parties. I  _hate_  being the centre of attention. I  _hate_  it.

Fenris gives me a private little smile and lets go of my hand. I take my place before the cake, wait for everyone to finish their ridiculous singing of 'Happy Birthday'  _and_ the countdown to the New Year, and finally blow out the candles. I cut the cake and Mother places a slice for each person on plastic party plates.

I've always had an incredibly strong sweet tooth, but this cake is just beyond  _amazing_. I'm literally moaning as I'm eating it. Just  _yum_.

After taking thousands of pictures and stuffing ourselves with cake and champagne (I had milk. What? I love milk with my cake. Stop looking at me like that), I catch Fenris' eye as I'm lazing about on a sofa. He nods his head towards the balcony. I smile and quickly slip away, which is much easier now that everyone is positively smashed.

I find him leaning against the stone railings, watching the fireworks explode in the distance. I join him and we silently watch the display for a full ten minutes until it's over.

"I feel  _old_ ," I suddenly blurt out. He looks at me and chuckles quietly.

"Already feeling a difference? It's only been ten minutes."

I laugh and move closer to him, the warmth of his body comforting in the cold January air. He wraps his arms around me and I rest my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes and taking in his musky scent. He brings his lips to the top of my head and leaves them there, his breathing slow and steady.

"Happy New Year, Marian," he murmurs.

"Happy New Year, Fenris," I reply.

I'm in his arms again.

 _I'm home_.

 **End of Act I**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge, HUGE thank you to every single person who has taken the time to read and review this little crazy creation of mine. When I first started writing this fic, I had some serious doubts about publishing it. I figured people wouldn't be bothered with reading it, let alone liking it. I am amazed everyday by the incredible feedback I've been getting and I just wanted to let you all know how much I love and appreciate you. This story wouldn't have gotten this far without each and every one of you. Truly. Now brace yourselves for Act II! Much, much love to you all!


	25. Chapter 25

"Mother,  _please_.  _Please_  don't overdo it. We're not made of money, you know."

"Don't be silly, Marian. We need new furniture!"

It's January, and Mother and I are in this swanky, ridiculously expensive Orlesian furniture shop in Hightown with a name that I cannot, for the life of me, pronounce. After nearly two months of buying 'new furniture' since we first bought the house last November, my delusional mother is still insisting that we need more of it.

"Look at this!" I exclaim as I pick up the price tag hanging from the first table lamp I see, " _Three thousand sovereigns_! This is ridiculous!"

"Stop being so much like your father, dear," Mother says, sweeping past me and heading directly to an elaborate, golden and heavily gilded framed mirror. She stares at the overly extravagant thing and whispers, "Maker's breath, this is absolutely  _stunning_. Come look at all the detailing, Marian!  _Maker_ …"

I grudgingly walk (or drag my feet) to her side and immediately reach for the price tag.

I feel like my eyes are literally going to fall out of their sockets.

 _Seventy thousand sovereigns_.

"Andraste's  _ass_ , Mother! Did you even bother looking at the price tag?" I exclaim, brandishing the tag in front of her face.

"It _is_  a bit pricey," she mutters more to herself than to me, "But it's so beautiful! Just look at it, Marian! This is a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing! It'll last us forever!"

I don't hear anything beyond what she first said.

"A  _bit_  pricey? A _bit_  pricey, Mother?" I shake my head incredulously, "Step away from the mirror, Mother."

_Huh. Now I'm doing police talk._

_Ah, the perks of being in jail for a month_.

Mother rolls her inquisitive blue eyes at me, "Fine," she grumbles as she reluctantly shuffles off towards some much cheaper looking vases, "But just so you know, you're no fun at shopping."

"We arrived at that conclusion more than sixteen years ago, remember?" I smirk.

"How could I forget? My daughter: the only girl in the world who absolutely despises shopping," she smiles and shakes her head, "What did I do to deserve that?"

"Ouch!" I feign hurt, "Really, Mother? Just  _ouch_."

"Oh, sweetie," she laughs as she admires a green marble coffee table, "You know I'm joking! You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, along with-" she stops short and her eyes drift to the floor, "Along with Bethany and Carver," she finishes in a low voice. She blinks and looks back up at me, a weak smile on her face.

When we first moved into the mansion, I found Mother crying quietly in one of the bedrooms, which she chose as Bethany's. She's got all of Bethany's things in there, just as though she is still alive and the room is actually being used by her. It broke my heart, to say the least. I cried myself to sleep that night. I was so busy crying that I was completely oblivious to the three missed calls and two text messages that I got from Fenris.

Thinking about her still hurts just as much as it did all those months ago in her funeral.

When Fenris and I weren't a couple yet.

When he silently stood by my side and gently squeezed my hand as we stared at Bethany's tombstone.

I still haven't told him that I love him. Even on the flight back from Rivain to Kirkwall, I couldn't pluck up the courage to do it. I just sat there, my head on his shoulder, my hand in his, just enjoying the proximity and warmth of his body next to mine. He was quieter than usual on the flight… maybe because he was expecting me to tell him.

I  _will_  tell him.

One day.

The gym's been closed ever since Christmas and it won't be open again until the second week of January, which is next week. Even after all the money I made, I still teach my karate lessons. I resumed them a week after I came back from Rivain, after some much needed proper rest and nutrition. Fenris, of course, is also still teaching them with me. Now that we're practically neighbours, I see a lot more of him than I used to when we lived in Lowtown, which is excellent, because I can never get enough of him.

 _Ever_.

I drift away from my mother, who is hopping onto arm chairs and couches to test them out, and send a quick text.

**What are you up to?**

"Ooooh, this one's  _real_  nice!"

"We have enough arm chairs to seat an entire army, Mother."

**Fenris: Cooking lunch.**

I stare at the black words on my phone's screen.

**You can cook?**

"Do these come in blue as well?"

"Mother! We don't have space for more furniture!"

**Fenris: Yeah…**

"Maker's breath, Marian! What's the point of going to a furniture shop without buying furniture?" Mother asks with exasperation.

"To browse? Isn't that what you said before we left this morning?"

"I didn't mean that  _literally_ …"

All right, I'm blocking her out. Back to texting.

**Huh. I didn't know that.**

_He can cook. He's a guy and he can cook. I'm a girl, and I can't cook to save my life._

_Maker… What is my life?_

**Fenris: Surprised?**

_Yes! And embarrassed!_

**Very!**

"McDonald's? We have yesterday's dinner in the fridge, Carver!"

I turn to see Mother talking on the phone.

Ah… Carver and his McDonald requests. Whenever one of us is out, he never fails to call either me or Mother to ask us to bring back an upsize Quarter Pounder or double cheese burger meal.

**Fenris: You free for lunch?**

_Maker's breath. Is he inviting me over for lunch? Lunch that has been cooked by_ **him** _?_

**Nothing planned so far.**

_And even if there were, it'd be obsolete in an instant._

**Fenris: Care to come over and join me?**

_Why did that just send shivers down my spine?_

_Okay. Play it coy, Hawke. Play it coy._

**Sure. Want me to get anything? A bottle of Aggregio, perhaps?**

"Come on, Marian. We're leaving."

**Fenris: That won't be necessary. But you could bring some cranberry juice. I'm all out.**

He wasn't kidding when he said he'd really taken a liking to cranberry juice. I can't help but smile whenever I think about that.

I blindly follow my mother out of the furniture shop as my fingers fly across my phone's touchscreen.

"Uhh, you go ahead, Mother," I say distractedly, "I'm having lunch with Fenris."

"Oh, are you now?" she smiles, "Okay. Give my regards to him, dear," she gives me a quick peck on the cheek, "Have fun!" she winks.

Poor Mother. Little does she know that Fenris and I are nowhere near what she  _clearly_ has in mind.

I wasn't kidding when I said that we were taking it  _very_  slow. It's been nearly six months since we've 'officially' been an item, and all we've done is kiss. Well, there was that time when we were in his bed and I was all over his shirtless chest, but… that never went anywhere.

**No prob. I'll be there in ten.**

I hurriedly head towards a supermarket and pick up a bottle of cranberry juice and a bottle of Aggregio.

Just in case.

To be polite.

You know how it is.

I pay for the drinks and make my way to Fenris' mansion in an overly-enthusiastic way. I'm so over-enthusiastic that I nearly drop the very breakable bottle of expensive Aggregio.

Have I mentioned that I'm the world's number one klutz?

No? Well, now you know.

Even after six months of being his… lover ( _Maker, it feels_ **good** _to say that_ ), I still get unnaturally nervous whenever I'm about to see him. My index finger is shaking when I press it against the doorbell button.

I wait anxiously, clutching the brown paper bag housing the drinks in my arms for comfort, my eyes fixated on my grey Chucks.

I nearly jump when the door swings open.

"Hey," he says in that sinfully sexy voice with an equally sinfully sexy smile.

"Hey," I nervously smile back before stepping into the entrance hall. There is a mouth-watering smell wafting from the kitchen, "Mmmm," I inhale deeply and close my eyes, "Smells great, Fenris!"

"It's nearly ready," he says as he locks the door behind us. He turns and pointedly looks at the paper bag still clutched in my arms, "That doesn't look like cranberry juice," he says with raised eyebrows, his eyes on the dark neck of the wine bottle sticking out of the bag.

"No," I say, balancing the bag in one arm and pulling out the plastic bottle of cranberry juice, "But  _this_  does," I grin.

"Aggregio's  _expensive_ , Marian," he says as he takes the bag from my arms, "I told you not to get any." He always calls me Marian now. 'Hawke' is still used, though mostly in more serious situations.

"I wanted to," I shrug. He sighs and rolls his eyes before heading off to the kitchen. I casually follow him, my mouth literally salivating at the amazing smell of cooking, which is much stronger now that we're in the kitchen.

"I forgot something," Fenris mutters after swiftly but carefully placing the paper bag on the kitchen counter.

"What?" I ask.

He looks at me and half-smiles before he closes the distance between us in one step, takes me in his arms and kisses me. Needless to say, I just melt there, every single bone in my body turning to squishy marshmallow.

"That," he purrs seductively, his half-closed eyes gazing into mine. I feel my face go incredibly warm and bite my lower lip as I smile.

Next thing I know, there is a loud growling sound emanating from what seems to be…  _me_.

"Someone's hungry," Fenris grins and loosens his grip on my waist.

"And the smell wafting out of those pans isn't exactly helping," I say.

He chuckles and steps away from me to look at one of the three-yes,  _three_ \- pots and pans simmering away on the stove. He lifts the lid off of the largest pan and moves around its contents with a wooden spoon.

"Vegetables appear to be nearly ready," he murmurs more to himself than to me.

This is so weird! Seeing him cook and check on  _vegetables._  How  _weird_  is that?

"Whatchoo cooking?" I ask, poking my head over his shoulder to look at the sizzling and simmering vegetables and what appears to be chicken and sausage.

"Jambalaya," he replies as he turns off the heat underneath the vegetables, "I picked it up in Rivain, of all places. Over three years ago. The old woman who owned the inn I stayed in gave me her recipe. I've modified it a bit, though, since I'm not a huge fan of seafood. And because the prawns and squid were a bit too expensive when I dropped by the fish market after my run this morning," he adds with a sheepish grin.

"Jambalaya," I repeat, watching him as he adds broth and uncooked rice to the now combined vegetables and meat, "I've never had that before. Isn't it similar to the Antivan Paella?"

"It is," Fenris nods, now adding freshly chopped tomatoes to the mixture. He stirs it slowly for a brief time and then leaves it to simmer.

I feel so useless right now.

"Where are we eating?" I ask, glancing around the large but table-less kitchen.

"In the dining room," he says, "I've never used it before, obviously, so I thought this was the perfect opportunity to finally put it to use."

"Should I set the table?" I ask, eager for something useful to do.

"Already done," he smiles.

 _Darn it_.

"Drink?" he asks, opening the freezer and pulling out the ice cube tray.

"Please."

I just stand there near the stove, awkward as hell, as I watch him pull out a glass from a cupboard.

"I'm guessing you're going for cranberry?" he smirks as he drops two ice cubes into my glass.

"You've guessed right," I grin.

As I watch him open the bottle and pour the juice into the glass, I find myself in a trance-like state; almost as though I were watching a magician performing a hypnotising trick.

I need to get over this weird hypnosis phase I have with him. It's seriously  _ridiculous_.

"Here you are," he smiles, handing me the full glass, "Let me know if you'd like more ice."

I take a sip, "It's perfect. Thank you."

He stands before me, silently watching me with a faint smile on his face, until the pan behind us starts simmering loudly.

"You're going to make me burn the food, Hawke!" he says jokingly, taking one big, incredibly agile step towards the stove and turning off the heat after quickly checking on the food.

"Is it ready?" I ask hopefully. My stomach is positively  _growling_.

"It's ready," he nods after he has a quick taste. He turns around to face me, his eyes bright, "Allow me to show you to the dining room, serah Hawke," he says in mock formality.

His  _voice_?

And how it adds to that hypnotised state I find myself in when I'm around him?

I'm surprised I can even  _breathe_  right now.

_You're getting better at this, Hawke. Breathe, keep cool, and everything will be fine._

_Breathe._

I chuckle and bow my head, "Please do," I say in a posh manner.

He flashes me a warm smile and offers me his hand. I take it shyly (though I'm trying my utmost best to hide that emotion) and allow him to lead me to the dining room- a room I'd never seen until now.

Needless to say, it's  _grand_. The ceiling, for starters, is incredibly high. There's a huge, crystal chandelier hanging over the long, dark mahogany table, and a fire is crackling merrily in the marble fireplace. The deep burgundy curtains are drawn shut, allowing only the slightest hint of sunlight through the chinks, casting a romantic dimness to the room.

The table itself isn't set up elaborately ( _thank the Maker. I hate being fussed over_ ). There are two white plates set next to each other, one at the head of the table and the other on its immediate left. Basic cutlery is neatly set on top of burgundy napkins, and a basket of fruit is set as a little centrepiece. A wine bottle is already cooling in an ice bucket.

It's all really simple and…  _adorable_.

Fenris gently lets go of my hand, briskly walks towards a chair and pulls it back, his figure cast into shadow from the flames behind him.

"You don't need to be so formal, Fenris," I say, my face turning warmer by the second.

"Just play along, Marian," he smiles.

I roll my eyes and make my way to the awaiting seat, which he gently pushes back into place once I'm seated in it.

"I'll be right back," he says before quickly heading out of the gigantic room. Before I even have time to collect my thoughts, he's back, balancing a large, steaming dish in one hand, his glass of wine in the other, and the bottle of cranberry juice held in the crook of his elbow.

"Do you need help?" I ask when I see his impressive balancing act.

"No," he says as he sets the large jambalaya dish between us, "But thanks for the offer."

"Anytime," I look at the steaming dish before me and my mouth instantly starts watering, "Maker's breath, Fenris! This smells like  _heaven_."

"Oh, so you've been to heaven, have you?" he asks jokingly, taking his seat beside me.

 _With you in my life, it's pretty close_ _to heaven_.

"You could say that," I say, rubbing my hands together and looking at the food in an attempt to conceal the true meaning behind my words, "Can I tuck in yet?" I ask longingly.

"You can," he chuckles. I perk up in my seat and spoon a large amount of jambalaya onto my plate. I notice from my peripheral vision that he's closely watching me, which makes me nearly knock over my drink with my elbow. I patiently wait for him to fill his own plate before I finally take my first mouthful.

I've never eaten jambalaya before, but if this is what it always tastes like, it's definitely going to become a regular on my menu, because it is  _delicious_.

At this point, I'm being particularly vocal about just how much I'm enjoying the food.

"You like it?" Fenris chuckles after one particularly loud moan from yours truly.

"Like it? This is _incredible_!" I say with a stuffed mouth. I know; I'm horrible and mannerless. But at least my appalling mannerisms make Fenris laugh.

"I'm glad to hear it," he chuckles.

I swallow and take a gulp of juice, "Where in Thedas did you learn to cook so well?" I ask incredulously.

"It's a skill you pick up when no one else will do it for you," he shrugs, his eyes focused on the swirling red contents of his glass.

 _Oh_.

_Danarius._

_I think we should steer clear of that topic_.

 _Just to be safe_.

"Well, lucky me," I grin, "Now I know who to turn to whenever I'm in need of feeding! Mother will be elated, you have  _no_  idea."

He chuckles quietly into his wine glass before he takes a sip, his eyes fixed on me.

Which is… kind of problematic.

Here's why: I have this thing about being watched while I eat. I feel overly self-conscious and I start internally freaking out about how I look as I'm eating and whether I'm being vulgar or messy. This happens even when complete strangers look at me while I'm eating in a restaurant or some other public place.

So you can imagine how bad this extreme case of paranoid self-anxiety can be when the person you are in  _love_  with is the one watching.

It's pretty bad, let me tell you.

"Aren't you going to eat?" I ask as casually as possible. He starts and blinks twice, as though roused from a reverie. He quickly sets down his glass and darts his eyes away from me, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"I- I am," he quietly says, fumbling with his cutlery.

 _Maker's breath_. Is he  _blushing_?

I smile to myself and resume eating.

We don't talk much after that. If there's one thing I've learned about Fenris, it's that he's very silent come meal time. He listens, but rarely speaks.

"I… I haven't made dessert or anything," he slowly says after we've both wiped out our plates.

"Fenris!" I laugh in disbelief, "Did you expect me to ask for  _dessert_? This isn't a formal dinner party, relax."

He still doesn't look comfortable.

"I have fruit," he gestures towards the fruit basket nearby, "If you'd like some."

I've never seen him so shy! His voice is all low and his eyes won't stop darting around and it's all just too darn adorable!

"Hmmm, let's see what you've got here," I say, pulling the basket towards me and inspecting its contents, "Oooh, apples! I like apples. I think I'll have an apple."

I take a red apple and push the basket closer to him. He smiles at me before taking a red apple of his own.

"Apple fan too, huh?" I ask, taking a large and embarrassingly  _loud_  bite out of mine.

"Indeed," he smiles before taking a smaller, much more civilised bite out of his.

I'm vulgar. I should buy a shirt that says "I'm with Vulgar" to everyone I hang out with.

Well, everyone but Carver, that is. If anyone can beat me in the Vulgar Contest, it's Carver.

"So… what're your plans for the rest of the day?" I ask, leaning forward with my elbows propped on the table.

He silently chews as he contemplates something.

"Have you heard of  _The Den_?" he asks.

"That bar just outside of Kirkwall?"

"That's the one," he nods.

"Yeah, I've heard of it. Never been there, though."

He hesitates for a while before asking, "Would you like to go there tonight?"

I beam at him, completely forgetting the half-eaten apple in my hand.

"It's a date," I say.

* * *

I've been getting a lot of stares lately.

It's got nothing to do with me, trust me, but it has  _everything_ to do with the vision walking by my side.

The thing about Fenris is… he's  _really_  unbelievably good looking. Add that to visible white markings and the silky white hair, and you've got a potent recipe for attraction.

And you know what makes him so much more irresistible?

He's completely oblivious to just how  _beautiful_  he is. Not handsome;  _beautiful_. He thinks people stare at him because he's different. Inconspicuous, as he often puts it. At first, I thought that was the reason too. But after Isabela told me how all of the girls in the Hanged Man want to "jump his bones", my suspicions were confirmed.

I guess all the women at  _The Den_  want to jump his bones too.

"This place is  _classy_ ," I say as soon as we step into the swanky bar. It was an hour and a half's drive, very close to Sundermount (Fenris drove; I'm terrible at driving to places I've never been to before), and I was beginning to think that it was one of those out-of-town, shady places that shouldn't be frequented.

But Maker, was I  _wrong_.

"Do you come here often?" I ask as we make our way towards the bar.

"Only a couple of times. I like it. It's secluded and nobody knows who you are. Unlike the Hanged Man," he adds with a smirk.

"Well, as Isabela says, sometimes you want to be where everybody knows your name."

"I imagine that is the case with Isabela no matter where she goes," Fenris smiles.

"True!" I laugh, "Ah, Bela. My popular, popular friend. Sometimes I wonder why she even bothers hanging out with me. It's sort of like when the popular girl in school starts being best friends with the loner geek."

"Anyone who has you as a friend is truly blessed," Fenris says in a serious tone, "Never doubt that."

I blush and smile warmly at him.

"I could say the same about you," I murmur. We silently smile at each other before I jump at the sudden sound of someone meaningfully clearing his throat.

"Can I get you folks anything?" the elderly bartender asks.

But before I open my mouth to say anything, the hand Fenris has in the small of my back suddenly goes rigid, along with the rest of his body.

"Hawke," he whispers urgently, "We need to leave.  _Now_."

Something's terribly wrong.

I can feel it.


	26. Chapter 26

"What's wrong?" I whisper. The bartender is watching us with a very impatient look on his wrinkled face.

"I'll explain later," Fenris quickly whispers back. He presses the hand already in the small of my back harder into it and steers me away from the bar. His pace is so fast, I nearly trip over my own feet _twice_.

But I don't ask him a single question.

The look on his face is enough to tell me not to.

As soon as we're out, a sharp, female voice calls out behind us.

"Fenris!"

Fenris freezes on the spot. I instantly stop too, and when I see the look of restrained yet apparent rage in his face, my breathing stops as well.

He slowly turns around, never removing his hand from my back, and faces  _The Den's_  entrance.

"Hadriana," he says in a very low and  _very_  menacing growl. His entire body is shaking with rage.

I look at the woman standing by the bar's doorway. She's tall, slim, with dark, shoulder-length hair that is stiff and unnaturally neat. Her piercing blue eyes look positively  _deadly_. The smile on her burgundy lips does not reach her eyes.

"I was wondering when I'd run into you," she purrs, slowly striding towards us, her gaze fixed on Fenris' resentful face.

"Get in the car," he whispers quickly to me.

"What?"

"Get in the car, Hawke," he repeats impatiently. His eyes are fixed on the woman before us, venom swirling in their moss-green confines. I hesitate for a second, staring at him imploringly, but he completely disregards me. My eyes dart to the woman, who is now standing no more than a couple of feet away from us, and she has her eyes fixed on him too. I nod once and slowly back away to my car. I pull my car keys out of my back pocket and blindly fumble with them as I continue to stare at the two figures in the distance.

' _What the fuck is going on?'_ is all I can think right now.

After what seems like ages of car key fumbling, I finally manage to unlock my car and slowly get into the driver's seat. By now, I'm too far away to hear anything that either of them is saying, so I reluctantly shut my car's door.

I just sit there, with ' _What the fuck is going on?_ ' continuously running through my numb brain, staring at the strange, silent scene before me. I have half a mind to turn on some music to fill in the unbearable silence, but I'm too curious to actually do it. What if they start yelling and I can finally catch what they're saying? What if Fenris calls for help?

I absent-mindedly drum my fingers on the steering wheel, waiting.

Waiting.

Until I finally see Fenris turn on his heels and walk towards me with a determination in his step that I have never seen before. That woman, Hadriana, hasn't moved an inch. Her eyes follow Fenris as he approaches my car.

He motions for me to roll down the window.

"What's up?" I ask worriedly. He rests his elbows on the window frame and leans in.

"Hawke," he says in a low, gravelly voice, "You can leave. You don't need to wait for me. I…" he pauses and gazes at me, conflict raging in his eyes, "Just leave, Hawke," he finishes in a stern tone.

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

"Le-leave?" I ask incredulously, "What do you mean 'leave'? I can't just leave you here, Fenris! What the fuck is wrong with you? How will you get back? What if something happens to you?"

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, as though composing himself.

"That is not your concern," he mutters angrily.

My eyebrows spring high up into my forehead and my eyes start to sting.

Not my concern?

His safety and welfare is  _not my fucking concern_?

"Not my concern, huh?" I ask venomously. I shake my head in disbelief and look away from him, focusing my attention on the tall, dark-haired woman instead. I feel his eyes burning into the side of my face as he continues to watch me, as silent and intense as a wolf hunting his prey, "Fine," I say, turning back to meet his gaze, "You're right. This is all none of my concern. I'll just leave you to it, then."

"Please do," he replies coldly.

I haven't felt this angry in such a long time. The feeling is almost foreign to me. My hands are shaking on the steering wheel, my blood is boiling, and I feel like I just want to smash my fist through the windshield. I wait for him to say something, to apologise or promise an explanation, but none of that comes. As soon as he steps away from my car, I roll the window back up and drive off without so much as a glance at his general direction.

Somehow, I find myself at the Hanged Man, my head resting against the cool marble of Varric's large table, an untouched glass of "the finest whiskey" before me. I had every intention of getting smashed, but as soon as I whiffed the strong scent of alcohol, I recoiled and decided against it.

"I got you some cranberry, kitten," Isabela says softly. I hear the soft thud as she places the second glass close to my face.

"Thanks, Izzy," I mumble without sitting up. I close my eyes and enjoy the cool feel of the smooth surface against my cheek.

"Screw him, Marian," Isabela says, pulling back the chair on my left and taking it, "And I don't mean that literally, mind you," she adds.

"Well, that's a first," I say dryly.

"See, Hawke," Varric says after a long puff from his cigar, "that's the problem with Broody: He's just… too  _broody_ , you know? It's not healthy being around someone like that twenty four seven."

"Maybe she's an old girlfriend and he felt awkward talking to her with you around?" Isabela asks, stroking my scalp with her long nails. I shake my head 'No' without opening my eyes.

"He told me there was never anyone else before. At least not one that he can remember," I say.

"And you believe him?" Varric asks with a hint of incredulity in his tone.

"I do," I reply, "The conversation we were having that night… he wouldn't lie. I can tell when people lie. He was dead serious."

"Then, maybe he's just having an off day?" Isabela asks hopefully.

"He was fine when he cooked me lunch," I shrug, "He was fine right until he saw that woman in the bar."

"He cooked you  _lunch_?" Isabela almost shrieks.

I nod weakly.

Sensing that right now is not the time to discuss lunch, especially not one that has been cooked by Fenris, Isabela lets it drop and continues to stroke my scalp. I sigh and enjoy the numbing sensation her strokes fill my head with.

"What time is it?" I ask after a very long stretch of silence (even Varric hasn't said a word, which is alarming, to say the least).

"Nearly eleven," Varric says.

"I'd better head back home," I groan and sit up straight, rubbing my eyes groggily, "Mother is probably freaking out already."

I switched my phone off as soon as I left  _The Den_  out of spite, even though I highly doubt Fenris would've tried to reach me. It just made me feel good. It made me feel in  _control_ , and not like I'm some hopeless waif waiting for that one phone call from the guy who couldn't care less.

"You sure you don't wanna stay the night with me?" Isabela asks worriedly.

"Thanks, Izzy, but I'm fine," I assure her, "Seriously, I'm not gonna let this bother me anymore. I'm just gonna go home, have a great big dinner and pass out in bed. Yep. That's exactly what I'll do."

"Sounds like an excellent plan to me," Varric winks.

I smile and say goodbye to the two of them before driving back home. In the car, I play the radio on full blast and sing along as loud as I can, forcing myself to cheer up. It worked. By the time I'm fumbling with my keys at the front door (I fumble a lot), my spirits are much higher than they were a quarter of an hour ago.

At the doorstep, I can smell a familiar scent that sparks a mixture of anger and sadness within me.

 _Musk_.

Musk and wine and that fresh, clean scent that always seems to cling to his skin.

My favourite scent in all of Thedas, to be more precise.

 _Urgh, not now, Hawke. Not when you finally started to cheer up_.

I start singing out loud to force myself to keep up the jolly mood.

I hang my keys on the key hook and shrug out of my coat as I make my way through the dimly lit entrance hall. Wonka, who is sound asleep on the rug before the fire, stirs and opens one eye, yawning when he sees that it's me and nuzzling his head back against his paws. I kneel down beside him and scratch behind his ears before I quietly head to the kitchen, scarf down a bowl of Chinese stir fry, grab a banana and climb up the stairs to my bedroom. I hear Mother's excessively loud snoring when I pass by her dark bedroom.

 _Good. For once in my life, she didn't spend the entire day freaking out over why I wasn't home yet_. _She probably thinks Fenris and I are screwing each other's brains out_.

I lazily brush my teeth, pull on my pyjamas and crawl into bed, falling asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillows.

I'm asleep for what feels like a few minutes when I hear an incessant and incredibly annoying  _click_  sound outside my balcony.

 _Click_.

 _Click_.

_What the fuck is that sound?_

I grumble and sit up, my sleepy eyes squinting at the balcony, waiting to hear the sound again.

 _Click_.

_All right, that's it!_

I fling the blanket off of me and march towards the balcony, feeling annoyed enough to break something. I grab my robe from the hanger and step out into the freezing January night air.

Next thing I know, something small and hard hits me right on the brow bone above my left eye.

"Ouch!" I yell out, "What the fuck?"

I quickly reach my fingers to my brow and touch it.

 _I'm fucking bleeding. How wonderful_.

I look down at my feet, searching for whatever it is that was thrown at me, and see a small, dark pebble. I stoop down and pick it up, twirling it between my thumb and index finger as I make my way to the balcony railings.

"Hawke!" someone calls out in a loud whisper.

I freeze, staring down at the deserted street, my eyes searching for the source of the sound.

"Over here!" the hoarse whisper calls out again.

Finally, I see a figure standing right below my balcony, waving one arm in the dark.

"Oh," I say coldly, anger quickly replacing my fear, "What do you want?"

"Can I come up?" Fenris asks.

"Why?"

"Because I want to talk to you," he replies calmly.

"Oh, so  _now_  you want to talk?" I ask, not bothering to mask the anger in my voice, "Is that how it works, Fenris? We only talk whenever  _you_  want to talk?"

"You know that's not true," he says quietly. I almost can't hear him.

"Today's little incident begs to differ," I say coldly.

He's silent for a while. I can almost see his jaw clench.

"Marian," he says calmly, "Can I just please come up and explain what happened?"

Why does he always have to sound to fucking  _calm_? My blood is  _seething_  right now and  _he_  sounds like he's ordering off a freaking menu!

I sigh and consider his request.

"Fine," I snap, "But make it quick; I need to be up early tomorrow."

That's a lie, of course. I just want to show him that he's not my top priority. As much as I love him, I just can't let him be the centre of my world. I've seen what happens to people who allow that to happen, and it's not pretty, let me tell you.

I push off the railings and deliberately make my way to the front door as slowly as possible. I know I'm being mean, but I just can't help it. He really hurt me today. To just dismiss me like that, as though I were some lesser being… I won't have it. I  _won't_.

I lazily yank open the front door and fold my arms, allowing my face to show just how annoyed I'm feeling.

As soon as he sees me, his eyebrows shoot up and his eyes widen with fear.

"Marian!" he exclaims, reaching his hand towards my brow, "You're bleeding!"

"Thanks to your pebble-throwing," I mutter sourly, "And it's nothing. It looks worse than it is, just ignore it."

"I'm sorry," he quickly says, his eyes still fixed on my wounded brow, "Your phone was off and I really needed to see you."

"Yeah, well, here you are," I say. I see him move his hand, as though intending to wipe of the drying blood from my brow, but I quickly take a step back and he stops midway.

"I'm sorry for waking you up," he mutters, his silky white hair falling over his eyes as he tilts his head down. I merely grunt my disapproval and turn my back to him. I quietly stride to the living room and stand before the crackling fire. Although I can't hear his footsteps, I can feel him approaching me cautiously until he stops a few feet away from me.

"I'm sorry," he quietly says, "I took out my anger on you, undeservedly so. I don't know what came over me. I was just… not myself."

I remain completely silent.

"Marian," he pleads. His voice is much closer now, "Forgive me."

"Tell me who that woman was," I say coldly. My back is still turned to him.

"She was Danarius' apprentice," he says with abrupt venom after a brief pause, "A snivelling social climber that would sell her own children if she thought it would please Danarius."

"Apprentice?" I swivel around to face him, my eyebrows raised. He smiles very faintly when he sees my face, despite the sour atmosphere surrounding us. "So, she's an Alchemist too?"

He nods once, studying my face with his large green eyes, now infused with a brilliant shade of gold from the dancing fire before him.

"When I was still with Danarius, Hadriana was a torment. She ridiculed me… insulted me… Sometimes, she even hounded my sleep; the one time I can actually rest and be alone, and that bitch revelled in taking those rare, precious moments away from me. Because of her status, I was powerless to respond, and she knew it."

"Is she in Kirkwall to take you back to Danarius?" I ask, trying hard to mask the fear brewing inside me.

"Of course!" he says a bit too loudly, "Why else do you think she's here? To catch a little bit of sunshine? That bitch was here to take me back, and she made no secret of it."

"Was? You mean she's gone?"

He hesitates and averts his gaze at that question. In the light from the fire, I can see him frowning before he finally looks up to meet my gaze again, his eyes burning with fiery resolution.

"Yes. She's gone," he says through gritted teeth.

"Back to Tevinter? Won't she tell Danarius that she saw you here?" I ask, panic creeping into my voice.

He shakes his head slowly, his hard gaze fixed on mine, "She won't be telling Danarius anything."

I stare at him, first comprehension and then shock dominating my expression.

"You… you  _killed_  her?" I whisper, staring at him with complete disbelief.

He nods once, his eyes uncomfortably darting to the side and back to my shocked face.

"The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now… I couldn't let her go. I wanted to, but I couldn't."

"When did you do it? How?  _Why_?"

"Weren't you listening to a word I said?" he snaps impatiently, "That woman made my life a living  _hell_! She was a sick, evil, sadistic bitch who revelled in seeing me suffer!" he shakes his head in disbelief and starts pacing before me, "She told me that I had no choice, that I was going back with her and that I would be dead by dawn if I didn't go back. She wasn't alone. She didn't expect to run into me at  _The Den_ , so she didn't have any of her pathetic lackeys with her. I got lucky. I would be dead by now if she had them with her. I had to do something before she contacted them and let them know that she finally found me." He stops pacing and faces me, running his slender fingers through his hair.

"This hate…" he says quietly, "I thought I'd gotten away from it, but it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again, to know it was they who planted it inside me… it was too much to bear. It's a fucking _sickness_."

"Aren't you worried the police will discover her and come after you?" I ask angrily. How could he be so fucking reckless?

"They'll think she fell off the mountain cliff," he mutters darkly.

"You pushed her off the freaking  _mountain_?" I ask incredulously, "Fenris! The fucking highway is right beneath that mountain! What the fuck is wrong with you? I'm amazed the police aren't after you yet!"

"No one saw us, Hawke," he says, "I'm certain of it. And I made sure the push was light enough to make it look as though she slipped and fell."

I can't believe this. Here I am, discussing a woman's death in my living room at two o'clock in the morning as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

"So, what now?" I ask after a stretch of silence.

"There's one more thing Hadriana told me," he says quietly.

"What?"

"The whereabouts of my sister," he replies.

I stare at him as he stares into the fire.

"Come again?"

"My sister," he turns away from the fire and looks at me, "Apparently, I have a sister."

I can tell from the tone of his voice that he doesn't buy it.

"Are you going to try and contact her?" I ask, "If you believe Hadriana, that is."

"No. This could be a trap. Danarius could have sent Hadriana here to tell me about this 'sister'. Even if he didn't, trying to find her would still be suicide. Danarius has to know about her and has to know that Hadriana knows. I can't risk it. Not now."

"Don't you think that's going a bit too far, Fenris?" I ask, "I mean, if Danarius truly valued Hadriana as an apprentice, would he risk losing her by sending her here just to tell you that you have a sister?"

"You don't know Danarius!" he snaps, startling me enough to make me jump, "Of course he would risk losing Hadriana if that would get him what he wants! He doesn't give a fuck about anyone other than himself!"

I just stand there, staring at him as he glares at me, his chest heaving and his expression livid.

"You need to cool down, Fenris," I tell him sternly.

He bows his head and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. "No doubt you are right," he says quietly, "I… I have to go." His head still bowed and his hands deep in the pockets of his black jeans, he steps away from the fire and passes by me as he heads out of the living room towards the main entrance. I only shuffle my feet back up to my bedroom after hearing the front door firmly close behind him.

"First lovers' quarrel?" Mother sleepily asks from her bedroom door.

"You can say that," I grimace.

 _Let's just hope it isn't anything worse than that_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for taking so incredibly long to post this chapter. I'm just going through turbulent times right now with emotional crap and whatnot, so I just wasn't in the right mindset to write anything. I just hope you guys like this chapter more than I do. I didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer, so I sat myself down and came up with this jumble of words. I sincerely hope I don't disappoint. This certainly isn't one of my better chapters, if you ask me. *Sigh*


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Almost Lover' by A Fine Frenzy is a good track to listen to at the end of the chapter.

**Chapter 27**

Sometimes, people just need a break.

A breather.

Some time to make them feel that they're not tied down or suffocating.

We're at that phase.

Fenris and I, that is.

Except, he's the one who needs the breather, not me. I haven't felt tied down or suffocated with him. Ever. Apparently, things are moving 'too fast' and he can't deal with a serious relationship right now. That's exactly what he told me when he came to visit me at my home on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.

"Fine," I told him. "A breather is what you want, then a breather is what you get. I don't want to make you feel tied down, Fenris, because you're not. You don't owe me anything. If this isn't working out for you, then it's best we end it right here, right now."

He finally lifted his head to meet my eyes, blinking slowly. I knew from the look on his face that I'd hurt him by my harsh words and detached manner.

"If it isn't working for me?" he repeated, his smooth hair concealing his left eye. He got up from the edge of my bed and strode toward the empty armchair next to the one already occupied by me. He fixed his gaze on mine intently, the flames from the fireplace illuminating his caramel skin and moss green eyes.

"You don't understand how much you  _mean_  to me," he said in a low voice. "How much I  _care_  about you. I don't want to fuck this up, Marian. I've already fucked this up…" He shook his head and looked away, placing his elbows on his thighs and resting his head on his intertwined fingers.

"I need some time," he finally said, his voice gravelly and weak. "I need some time to think, to sort things out… To clear my mind."

I silently watched him, his head still resting against his knuckles, his curtain of silver hair hiding his expression from me. I nodded slowly to myself and my gaze drifted towards the fire, its merry movements starkly contrasting with the painfully tense atmosphere of my bedroom.

"Okay," I said in a calm voice.

 _Okay_.

* * *

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, IZZY!"

It's the first hour of the seventeenth of February, and Varric's throwing a huge party to celebrate Isabela's twenty ninth birthday at the Glass Lounge (that new, swanky lounge that Izzy and Merrill bar tend at) at our trusty Hanged Man.

"You're a year away from the big three O!" I grin, thumping Isabela on the back and accidentally causing her to spill coke and vodka down her front.

She's too drunk to realise that, though.

"Oh, shut up, Marian," she slurs, "Twenty nine is still in the twenties category."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," I smirk and raise my glass to her before taking a swig.

I'm drinking lemonade, by the way. It's my latest obsession.

"Here you go, Marian," Merrill smiles as she hands me a yummy-looking slice of red velvet and vanilla cream cake.

"Thank you, Merrill." I take a big mouthful of the cake and my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, "This is delicious!" I say with a stuffed mouth. Merrill giggles as I try to swallow the rest of it down, "Did you make it?" I ask her.

She nods, beaming widely.

"You should open up a bakery or something!" I exclaim, taking another (smaller) mouthful of cake, "You'd do really well!"

"I would?" she asks, looking positively elated.

"Definitely!" I say.

"Here you are, Merrill." I look up and see my brother, Carver, holding two drinks in his hands.

_What?_

_Carver and Merrill?_

_Huh. I definitely didn't see that one coming_.

I smile and wink at Carver as I watch Merrill blush when he wraps his arm around her _incredibly_  tiny waist (I think Carver's bulging biceps make it look tiny) and steers her away to the bar.

"Enjoying yourself, Hawke?" Varric's smooth voice asks from behind me. I turn around and chuckle when I see his flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair.

"Enjoying myself? That's the understatement of the year!"

"Glad to hear it," he grins. He steps closer to me and beckons me to lean in closer to his face, "I invited Broody, you know. Guess he couldn't make it."

"Guess so," I shrug.

I'm not going to lie and say that my heart didn't skip at the mention of  _him_. That I didn't consciously have to make an effort not to let my face drop when he didn't show up.

Not that I expected him to show up. It's been over a month since we ended it. I still see him three times a week at our karate lessons, but that's pretty much it. I'm actually still very surprised that he shows up to those, all stoic and calm and focused. He has a gift with stoicism, let me tell you.

We obviously don't talk much when we see each other. Just the regular, pleasant, albeit cautious hellos and see you soons. We're far too busy during lessons, which is a  _great_ thing, because the awkwardness would be  _way_  too much to handle. I mean, I probably spend 75% of my time avoiding eye contact with him, which is very difficult when he's an assistant teacher who I have to demonstrate certain techniques on.

There's one thing I'm very proud of, though: I didn't cry. I didn't shed a single tear over the breakup. Not one. And that's saying a lot when it comes to Little Miss Emotional.

"Hey, Marian."

Pulled out of my deep reverie, I start and blink up at a kind-faced, smiling blonde standing before me with a drink in his hand.

"Hi, Anders," I smile.

"Did I interrupt something?" he asks.

"No, no," I shake my head and take a sip of lemonade, "Just enjoying the party."

"Varric sure knows how to throw one, eh?" he grins.

 _Gosh_. I've never seen eyes that look as  _warm_  as his do.

"Yeah," I chuckle lightly, "He definitely does."

We just stand there, awkward and silent as we watch Varric and Isabela do a drunken waltz on the neon-lit dance floor.

"They look like they're having a blast," Anders laughs.

I merely smile and nod.

 _Maker, this is_ **awkward**.

"Wanna dance?" He asks me this  _really_ quickly.

"Umm… yeah… sure," I smile. He beams and takes my drink from my hand, placing it on a nearby table with his. He then extends his hand to me. For a brief and bizarre moment, my mind goes back to the night he stitched Fenris' forehead and how  _sweaty_  his hand felt when I shook it. When I hesitantly place my hand in his this time, it's perfectly dry, which is a relief, let me tell you.

He leads me to the dance floor, where Carver, Merrill, Varric and Isabela are dancing to  _Only Girl (In The World)_.

"I should warn you," I say as we pass a twirling Isabela, "I'm not the best dancer out there."

"Neither am I," Anders laughs. I like his laugh. Not as much as I like Fenris', but I like it nonetheless. It's… light. Pleasant. Nice on the ears.

We spend around five minutes of awkward, fast-paced club dancing before I laugh and throw my hands up in the air, yelling "I give up!" over the music. Anders laughs with me and takes my hand (again), leading me back to the table with our drinks on it.

"Phew!" he laughs, slumping down onto a chair and taking a long gulp of his beer, "I haven't danced like that in a long time!"

"I usually avoid dancing in public at all costs," I say, slowly taking the chair opposite him.

"You should! You're terrible!" he laughs.

"Says the guy who tripped twice over his own shoelaces," I grin.

"Hmmm," he pretends to be contemplative, "Fair point."

I quietly take a few sips of my lemonade and look around the lounge, feeling as awkward as hell. Merrill and Carver are nowhere in sight (and we all know what  _that_  means), Varric is chatting away on his cell, and Isabela is dancing wildly with my ex-karate assistant, Zevran, who spots me watching them and wildly waves his arms at me, calling out my name over the music.

"Hawke!"

"Hey, Zev!" I yell, waving back at him, though not as frantically. He whispers something in Isabela's ears and starts making his way towards our table, a wide grin on his handsome tanned face.

"Hawke," he grins, spreading his arms wide as he always did whenever he saw me, "My sexy little minx." Grinning widely, I stand up and walk into his embrace, wrapping my arms around him fondly, his own arms nearly squishing me against his chest.

"Maker, I missed you so," he purrs into my ear, rubbing the side of his face against my hair.

"So did I," I say, smiling and inhaling his familiar scent of Antivan leather (he's always wearing something that's made of it).

"Oh?" Zevran says from over my shoulder, "And who is this?"

I pull back from the embrace and see that Zevran is looking at a  _very_  curious looking Anders.

"Oh, this is Anders," I reply, "Anders, this is Zevran. He used to teach karate with me, before he busted his back."

"Pleasure," Anders smiles.

"Likewise," Zevran grins.

"Zev! It's our song!" Isabela shrieks from across the dance floor.

"Ah, it appears that I am needed. Well, it was an absolute pleasure to see you again, Marian, and it was nice to make your acquaintance, Anders," he bows (yes,  _bows_. He does that a lot). "Keep in touch, my little minx, won't you?"

"Will do," I grin. I'm still grinning when I turn back to join Anders at our table.

"Well," Anders says, his eyes following Zevran and Isabela on the dance floor, "He's a colourful character."

"You can say that again," I laugh.

"What happened to his back?"

I laugh again.

"You won't believe me if I told you," I say.

"Try me."

I bite my lower lip in an attempt to keep a straight face before simply saying, "He slipped on crow shit."

"He  _what_?"

"He slipped on crow shit," I repeat in a tone that sounds as though hurting your back by slipping on crow shit is the most normal and frequent occurrence in Thedas.

"Like…  _how_?" Anders asks incredulously with his mouth hanging open.

"He was on his daily evening jog at the Hightown Park and there was a crow in the middle of his path. Apparently, the crow was… well… shitting when Zevran scared it off by running towards it. And yeah… it was dusk, he couldn't see clearly, so he slipped. On the crow's shit."

"Huh," Anders shakes his head with a very amused look of disbelief on his face, "It's not every day you hear a story like that."

"That's Zevran for ya," I say.

"Do you want another drink?" Anders asks after yet another stretch of awkward silent head-bobbing to the annoying techno music.

"Uhh… yeah, all right. Just a lemonade, thanks."

"One lemonade, coming right up," Anders smiles. I smile back and watch him as he orders our drinks from Norah at the bar.

Although I am far from interested, he's a  _really_  good looking guy. I never really noticed that before. I blame my unhealthy obsession with Fenris for that.

But yeah… his blonde hair is really smooth and silky, and it looks really sexy tied up in a dishevelled ponytail. He's got the kindest hazel-brown eyes I've ever seen (apart from Dad's), and his smile just warms the insides of whoever it's directed at. I like the fact that he always seems to have stubble on his cheeks and chin. I like the fact that his nose is a bit hooked and long at the tip.

I like Anders.

I really, really do.

And all of a sudden, the thought of  _him_  liking  _me_  doesn't bother me anymore.

"Here you are," he smiles as he sets my drink before me on the table, "You don't drink alcohol at all, right?"

"Right," I reply after a sip, "I can't stand the smell. And the taste. And the effect that it has on people."

"I wish I could just give it up," Anders says, turning his beer bottle around on the surface of the table, "But sometimes, I feel like I'm going to lose my mind, so I need it to… unwind, y'know?"

"Hmm," I nod, watching him turn his bottle, "I unwind by working out."

"Does that work?" he asks.

"Works for me. I just lift weights till I can't lift anymore and run or cycle or row as though my life depended on it. Gets the stress out really quick."

"Huh," he says with a smile, "I should try that."

"You should," I say. I take another sip of lemonade, "It's a great outlet."

"I'll take your word for it," he grins before taking a swig of beer.

_Just not anytime soon, right?_

_Right_.

"So…" he drums his fingers on the table, "How's Fenris?"

I freeze mid-sip, trying my best to control my expression.

"Err, he's fine," I say in what I hope is a nonchalant tone.

"Is he coming later?" Anders asks casually. Something tells me he already knows the answer to that.

"Er, no," I say, avoiding eye contact at all costs, "No, he isn't."

"Ah. Okay. It's just that I've never seen you without him. Especially at special occasions like this one."

"He-" I pause, contemplating whether to tell him or not. I decide on the former. "He and I are done. It's… it's over between us."

"Oh," Anders says softly, his brow furrowing slightly, "I… I'm sorry."

I want to hug him.

I really want to hug him.

You wanna know why?

Because he means it.

He told me he's sorry and he  _means_  it. I can see it so  _clearly_  in his warm, hazel eyes.

 _He's sorry_.

"It's fine," I shrug, "These things happen."

"Yeah…"

Another stretch of awkward silence ensues.

"What time is it?" Anders suddenly asks.

I pull out my phone and check.

"Nearly two. Jeez, I had no idea it was this late!"

"You look tired," Anders notes, "Your eyes… they're droopy."

"I'm usually in bed by eleven," I explain, "I'm more of a morning person. I don't function as well when the sun's down."

"I'm the exact opposite of that," Anders grins, "I'm a night owl."

 _Just like Fenris_.

I wonder what he's doing right now.

I wonder if he's home.

Maybe I should drive by his mansion and see if the light in his bedroom is on?

 _No. I shouldn't. It's over and that's that_.

But I want to.

I really, really want to.

"I think I'm gonna call it a night," I feign a yawn and stretch my arms.

"Aww, leaving already?" Anders asks, looking genuinely disappointed.

"I'm a walking corpse. You said so yourself."

"You're right," he chuckles, "You sure you're okay to drive home?" he asks seriously.

"You're the one downing the beer bottles, remember?" I smirk.

"Oh, touché," he smirks back, "Okay. Can I walk you to your car?"

I hesitate for a second before saying, "Yeah, sure."

I make my way to an incredibly drunk Isabela (who is already wearing the antique gold tribal necklace I got her as a gift), smother her in birthday hugs and kisses, say my goodbyes to everyone else and head downstairs, with Anders right at my heels. I make my way through the crowded tavern and yank open the door, deeply inhaling the fresh air as soon as it hits my face.

"My car's just over there," I tell Anders, pointing at my parked Proton.

"Okay. Well, I had a really great time with you tonight, Marian," Anders smiles warmly.

"So did I," I reply genuinely, "You staying for much longer?"

"Just a bit longer."

"Okay," I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to warm myself up, "Well, enjoy the rest of the night. Goodnight, Anders."

"Goodnight," he says softly, "Drive safely."

I nod and give him one last awkward smile before I turn and head towards my car. When I hear quick footsteps behind me, I stop and turn around.

"Marian," Anders calls out, "Wait."

I stop and watch him as he quickly approaches me.

"Could I… could I get your number? You know… to keep in touch?"

He looks so  _hopeful_ , it's practically impossible for me to turn down his request.

"Of course," I smile. We exchange numbers, wish each other goodnight again, and each go our separate ways.

In my car, I plug in my iPhone and play my classical music playlist.

Even though his mansion is out of the way, I decide to drive by and check if he's home.

Just for the sake of knowing.

Knowing that he's nearby, that he's only ten minutes away from me, that he's  _here_.

By the time I reach his mansion, the musical piece that he composed for me starts playing purely by coincidence (I recorded it with my phone while he was playing it one time). There is a dim, flickering light in his bedroom, which tells me that the fireplace is lit.

I parallel park my car by the sidewalk opposite his mansion, under cover of darkness. I turn off the engine and just sit there, staring at the flickering light beyond his bedroom window.

I close my eyes and try to think about the fact that he's only a few yards away from me right at this moment, probably drinking a glass of Agreggio and thinking to himself.

Or maybe he's with someone else, enjoying himself and living his life as he should. As he  _deserves_  to.

Without burden.

Without hesitation.

Without  _me_.

I think I hear the faint sound of music playing. I open my eyes and look at his window, which is slightly open.

I hear it again.

It sounds so  _familiar_.

It sounds like the piece he composed for me.

 _'Hawke's Sonata'_ , he named it.

When I strain my ears to hear it again, I'm only met with silence.

I must have imagined it, desperate as I am for some proof that he still cares about me.

That I still cross his mind.

As I stare at his bedroom window, my vision gets blurry. Everything starts swimming around, slightly out of focus.

And for the first time since our breakup, I break down, right here in my car.

The sound of my sobs echoes off my car's interior, reverberating in my ears.

And all I can feel is pain.

Sharp, searing,  _unbearable_ pain.

And  _longing_.

 _Longing_ to see his face, to hear his voice, to feel his touch.

 _Longing_ for the strange, tattooed man with the strange, foreign name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shout out to my brain twin, Arquen, for coming up with the brilliant name for Fenris' composition.


	28. Chapter 28

When I woke up this morning, I felt absolutely  _pathetic_.

 _Disgusted_.

 _Horrified_.

How could I break down like that? How could I absolutely break down and cry like that over a  _man_?

I've never been so disappointed with myself in my  _life_.

I'm truly pathetic.

So, I'm going to make this vow right now. I'm going to make this vow and everyone reading this will be my witness.

I am  _never_ ,  _ever_  going to cry over a man who I am (or was) romantically linked to ever again. I don't fucking care what happens, but I will  _not_ allow myself to cave in and cry like a pathetic little weakling. I won't feel pain, emptiness, sadness or longing because I am better than that. I am way,  _way_  above that. All women are. And men too. No one should  _ever_  feel like they need someone else in order to live and be happy. We are each our own person and we don't need  _anyone_ to complete us and make us feel whole.

Always remember that.

Okay, the deep, philosophical part is over now.

I just came back from a long, tiring and very de-stressing workout at the gym. I must've really de-stressed, because at some point during my workout, I decided to treat Anders, Isabela, Varric and Merrill to dinner and a movie; a nice buddies' night out sans romance or anything even remotely connected to it.

So, that's what I'm doing right now; I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed, still in my bathrobe, my damp hair plastered on my forehead as I quickly send a mass text message to the four of them.

**Hey guys! Anyone up for a movie and dinner tonight at 7-ish? My treat ;)**

Anders is the first to respond:

**Hey! Sure, that sounds great! What movie did you have in mind?**

_Hmmm… Good question_.

I quickly go to the local cinema's website and look at the listings.

 _**Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows** _ **. How does that sound? It starts at 7:10, so we can have dinner after the movie.**

I dry my hair with a towel as I wait for a response.

**Anders: I love SH! Can't wait! See you soon!**

The sheer enthusiasm of his reply makes my mind immediately jump to Alistair.

_Should I invite him too?_

_Does he even want to see my face after what happened with Fenris last time?_

_But that was Fenris' fault, not mine! Why should I have to lose a very dear friend and suffer the consequences because of someone else's foolish actions?_

I'm inviting him.

Yeah. I  **am**.

_Should I call him or text him?_

_Hmmm… I should probably call… I haven't spoken to him in a while and…_

_Yeah…. I should call_.

As I go through my contacts' list and call his number, my heart is beating  _fast_. I try to swallow, but my throat's too dry.

"Hello?"

"Uhh, hey, Alistair, it's Marian." I say this way too quickly.

"Yeah! I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw your name on my caller id!" he exclaims.

I laugh nervously and twirl my phone's battery charger around my index finger.

"It's been a while," I say shakily, "I thought I'd call and see how you're doing. We didn't exactly end off on a positive note the last time we spoke."

"Uhh... yeah… we didn't," he replies awkwardly.

 _Awk-ward_.

"So! How've you been?" I ask.

"Good. Great, actually! You?"

"Great!" I exclaim a bit too enthusiastically. It's what I do when I lie, you see; my voice gets all high and pitchy and excited. It's embarrassing, really.

"That's good," he says softly.

The dreaded awkward pause ensues.

 _Come on, Hawke_.

 _Ask him_.

"Umm…"

_Come on. You can do it._

"Err…"

_MOUTH! Why do you refuse to cooperate with BRAIN?_

_SAY IT OR ELSE!_

"Are you free tonight? A group of friends and I are going out for dinner and a movie, and I was wondering if you'd like to come along." I say this so rapidly, I could barely understand myself.

"Sure! I'd love to!"

He actually understood whatever it was that came out of my mouth?

Huh.

Impressive.

"Wait," he says abruptly.

"What?"

"Is…" he hesitates for a moment, "Is  _he_  coming?"

"No! No, it's… it's over between us."

"Oh. I... I'm sorry, Marian."

"It's all right. Anyways, we're meeting in the Hightown Cinema at seven. Is that okay?"

"That's perfect." I can hear the smile in his voice. "Just one thing, though," he adds.

"Hmm?"

"Would it be all right if I brought someone along?"

"Of course it'd be all right!"

I'm  _dying_ ,  _bursting_ , to ask who this someone is, but I bite my lower lip and summon all of the willpower within me to stop myself.

"Brilliant!"

"So, I'll see you and your someone at 7, then?"

"See you then!"

"'Kay!"

Crap! Now I'm boiling with curiosity!

 _Someone_? Who is this  _someone_?

Pffft. Look at me, fussing over my ex-boyfriend's life. I truly am pathetic.

Okay, Alistair's someone is leaving my brain… NOW.

Sigh. I need food.

When I head downstairs and enter the kitchen, I see Carver sulking over his steak and mash.

"What's up, Carve?" I ask as I grab a plate from one of the cupboards and start to spoon some mashed potatoes and peas onto it.

"Nothing," he mumbles without looking at me.

"Is the steak all right?"

"S'fine."

"Then, why are you glaring at it?"

He rolls his blue eyes and glares at me instead.

"Can't I ever be left alone? You and Mother are just constantly nagging at me! What do you want from me?" he asks, infuriated.

"Woah!" I raise up my hands and take a step back, "Relax, Carve! I don't want anything from you. I just want to know what's up. Is that a crime?"

His eyes back to glaring at his steak, he purses his lips and remains silent, clearly intent on ignoring me.

Taking the hint, I choose a steak from the pile left by Mother on the table and sit opposite Carver. Without uttering a word, I dig into my food.

I hate the sound of chewing.

I mean, my  _own_  chewing. Well, I hate the sound of other people's chewing as well, but it's never as loud as when it's in your own head.

And it's so freaking  _silent_  in this kitchen. It's like someone's chewing right in my ear.

"I want to join the militia," Carver suddenly says in a low voice.

I nearly choke on my food.

"The  _militia_?" I ask with a choked voice. I clear my throat and drink some water before I ask him, "Why in Thedas would you want to join the  _militia_?"

Carver glares at me as though I'd just said the most senseless thing in the world.

"Because I want to!" he snarls, "There's no point in talking me out of it. It's done. I'm going."

"But-"

"No, Marian," he cuts me off, his eyes filled with an intensity I've never seen in them before, "I want to be someone. Like Father wanted. Like  _I_  want. This is my chance."

"Does Mother know?" I ask.

"She does," he mutters, "She doesn't want me to go. Says it's too 'dangerous'."

"It _is_  dangerous, Carver," I say imploringly, "Have you heard what people say about the Kirkwall militia and Commander Meredith? Have you seen the Gallows? It's a freaking fortress!"

"I have. And nothing you or anyone else says will change my mind. I've already decided, Marian." He stands up, his chair scraping against the kitchen floor as he pushes it back. "I'm going," he says with finality, and he leaves me alone at the kitchen table, his plate of food untouched.

* * *

"I want to tie Robert Downey Jr. to a bed and make him beg for mercy.  _Twice_."

"Isn't that a line from the BBC Sherlock series?" I ask a gushing Isabela, "When Irene Adler seduces Sherlock and-"

"Yes, yes, you got me," Isabela rolls her eyes, "I forgot that we have a walking BBC Sherlock encyclopaedia with us."

"I love that show!" Merrill squeaks, "I like Dr. Watson."

"I know who Isabela likes," Anders waggles his eyebrows at her like an evil villain out of a cartoon.

" _Everyone_ knows who Bela likes," Varric smirks, "It's all over her freaking facebook page!"

"It's not like I'm trying to hide it or anything," Isabela says, "Andrew Scott is  _hot_. Andrew Scott as Jim Moriarty is even  _hotter_."

"True that," I say, "Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock isn't too shabby either."

"Yeah, but he's got  _nothing_  on Moriarty," Isabela purrs, feigning a swoon.

"I should probably start watching it," the tanned brunette girl Alistair brought along says.

His special  _someone_.

A.K.A his new girlfriend.

Eleanor Cousland is her name. She's from some aristocratic family based in Highever back in Ferelden. They met at a cheese tasting event some months ago. Apparently, they're head-over-heels in love with each other. It's very sweet to watch. I won't lie, though; the green monster of jealousy is slowly stirring within me. Whenever he holds her hand or places his hand in the small of her back, or when he plays with her long, brown hair and kisses her, I can't help but think about the old days. When Alistair was my life and I was his.

Ah, to be young and in love. I am  _so_  glad that phase is over with. Teenage hormones make you do the craziest things, I swear.

"So, where are we eating?" Alistair asks, his strong, muscular arm wrapped around Eleanor Cousland's waist (I refer to people I don't know very well by their full name. Don't ask me why).

"Wherever you guys like," I say, " My treat, remember? You don't have to worry about the money."

"Oooh, there's this really posh place I've always wanted to go to," Isabela says, "Actually, I went there once. It's Orlesian. I forget what it's called…"

" _Fleur D'Orlais_?" Varric asks.

"Yes!" Isabela exclaims, "That's the one!"

 _Crap_.

Of all the freaking restaurants in Hightown, they had to pick the one Fenris and I had our first dinner date in.

Brilliant. Absolutely  _superb_.

"Oooh! That place is so _fancy_!" Merrill says, bouncing on her toes with excitement.

"How about it, Marian?" Varric asks.

 _Yes_.

 _Say yes, Hawke_.

_You promised that you wouldn't let some guy control your life and how you live it. So say fucking YES._

"Yeah, that place is great!" I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.

On our way to Sovereign Avenue, my heart almost stops and falls out of my bum when I see a white-haired figure in the distance.

"Marian?" Anders' soft voice says from somewhere to my right, "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" I blink fast and turn to meet a pair of warm, hazel eyes, "Yeah. Yeah, of course I'm okay.

 _Once again, my stupid face gives away everything_.

First my mouth, then my face. It's a rebellion, I tell you!

As soon as Anders looks away, I quickly glance towards the direction of the white-haired figure.

 _Gone_.

Whoever it was, they're gone.

It's probably my brain playing tricks on me. My entire body is turning against me, might as well be joined by my brain too.

"Oooh! Look at how fancy it is!" Merrill says when we arrive at  _Fleur D'Orlais'_ s entrance.

"Wow," Anders whistles in appreciation, "I've never been near Sovereign Avenue, let alone this place."

"I've been here," Isabela says, her eyes darting from one Orlesian waiter to the other, "Hooked up with one of the waiters. Orlesian men are  _so_  good in bed, you have  _no_  idea."

"Oh, I'm sure we don't," I smirk.

"Wait," Isabela suddenly grabs my wrist, "Didn't you come here with Fen- I mean, with  _him_?"

"You can say his name, Izzy, I don't care. And yes, we came here before. Same night Anders had his hissy fit with the Chantry," I add with a grin directed at Anders' (now blushing) face.

"I was drunk!" he says defensively.

"We know you were, Blondie," Varric grins devilishly, "Doesn't make it any less hilarious."

"What hissy fit?" Alistair asks.

"Table for seven?" a waiter asks us.

"Yes, please," I say before glancing at Alistair and adding, "We'll explain inside."

The waiter, a young redhead this time, shows us to a large table in the centre of the restaurant. When I spot the much smaller table by the window that Fenris chose for us all those months ago, I feel myself stiffen a bit. Suddenly, I see Fenris, chin resting on his knuckles, staring out the window, the pale moonlight illuminating his caramel skin and white markings, casting a strange blue hue on the latter. I see his green eyes studying my face, watching my every move. I see the corner of his lips curve up into a small smile as he listens to me talk and watches me eat. I feel the warmth of his skin as he gently places his hand over of mine…

"Hawke?" Varric asks.

"Hmm?"

"You've been really silent lately," he says from across the table, "Everything all right?"

"Yeah. Everything's fine. Absolutely fine."

"Want a sip of wine?" he asks, offering me his glass of red.

"You know I don't drink, Varric," I say with raised eyebrows.

"Just a sip," he smiles.

"Careful," Isabela says from my left, "She's got zero tolerance. One sip may be enough to send her peeing on the Chantry walls too."

"Oh, hardy har har," Anders says dryly.

"Couldn't resist, kitten," Isabela giggles.

"Will someone please tell me what this Chantry peeing and hissy fit is about?" Alistair asks impatiently.

"We'll tell you after Marian takes a sip," Varric grins.

"You don't drink, Marian?" Eleanor Cousland asks.

"Nope," I reply.

"She never liked it," Alistair explains with a fondness in his eyes as he watches me, "The smell and the taste always put her off."

"Here," Varric pushes his glass towards me, "Just a sip."

I take the wine glass in my hand and stare at its deep crimson contents. I swirl the liquid and take a sniff, scrunching my nose and recoiling away from the awful stench.

"Bleaugh," I make a face of utmost disgust, "I can't. I'll throw up! I'll throw up and ruin everyone's dinner, believe me."

"Oh, you sissy!" Isabela cackles as Varric reaches over and takes back his glass.

"Does this mean we can skip the Chantry story?" Anders asks hopefully.

"No!" we all exclaim in a chorus.

"Maker," Anders groans and covers his face with his (rather large) hands.

We spend the rest of the evening talking, joking, teasing, laughing and eating exceptionally pricey food (and drinking exceptionally pricey wine when it comes to the others). Eleanor Cousland proved to be a delightful person with a dirty sense of humour (Alistair's ears were constantly blushing from her risqué jokes), so she and Isabela really hit it off. All in all, it was a fantastic night out. I drove Alistair and Eleanor Cousland home while Varric took the rest of the motley crew in his Bentley.

Even though I had zero alcohol to drink, I am just about ready to crawl into bed and pass out. Before I head upstairs to my bedroom, I pass by the living room and give Mother (who has fallen asleep on the sofa with the television still on) a quick kiss on the cheek.

Finally, I fall into my very welcoming and warm bed. Just as I lay my head on my pillow and close my eyes, my phone vibrates on the bedside table.

I reach over and unlock the screen.

 **Message from Izzy** :

 **Agreggio**.

Bewildered, I type out a quick reply.

**Huh?**

_Is she drunk?_

**Izzy: Agreggio. The wine Varric was trying to make you taste. It was the Agreggio.**

_What?_

**Why would he do that?**

_And why didn't he tell me?_

**Izzy: Goodnight, kitten.**

_What the?_

These people I associate myself with?

They're  _weird_.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for taking such a long time! I'm currently overseas visiting a close friend and it's been very difficult finding alone time to write anything substantial. I forced myself to sit down and finish this chapter when I was told that I was taking too long. I hope the wait was worth it!

I don't usually like guys with long hair. I mean, it's fine and all, but I don't  _prefer_  it. I like it when their hair's all short and neat, just like Alistair's.

Like with everything else, however, there always is that  **one**  exception.

In my case, there can be only one.

Guessed who it is yet?

Yep.

Fenris.

I'm in the middle of teaching a karate class, and I can't help but notice that Fenris' hair has grown enough to create a difference in his appearance. He actually has it tied up in a messy (and tiny) ponytail, while the front layers, which are too short to tie up, messily frame his beautiful chiselled face.

And Maker, does he look  _beautiful_.

 _Ethereal_.

Like he's from some other universe.

It almost  _hurts_  to look at him.

It hurts even more when I think about the fact that, just a few months ago, he was mine.

And I was his.

 _Okay, Hawke, now's_ _ **so**_ _not the time for this crap_.

It's the middle of March now, so it's already been over two months since we ended it.

Well, since  _he_  ended it.

"Sensei Hawke?"

"Yes, Connor?"

"I don't get that new move you just showed us. The one that blocks kicks and stuff? Could you show it to me one more time, please?"

"Of course. Come here and I'll demonstrate it with you for the rest of the class."

Just as Connor starts to make his way to the front of the class, I hear the sound of jogging footsteps approaching me.

"It's all right, Connor, I'll help Sensei Hawke with the demonstration," Fenris calmly says. Surprised, I chance a quick glance at him and see that he has that familiar stoic expression on his face, his green eyes giving away nothing. I nod at Connor and turn to face Fenris, outwardly as calm as he is, except on the inside, I'm more than a little uncomfortable.

"All right. So when the opponent does a straight kick to the stomach, you just step sideways and block it with your arm like that," I say as Fenris kicks and I demonstrate the block. "And when the opponent aims a sidekick at your face, you just step slightly to the side like so and use your forearms to block." I step away from Fenris and turn to face the class. "Is that clear for everyone? Connor, is that all clear now?"

"Yes, Sensei. Thank you."

"You're welcome. And, thanks, Fenris," I add hastily. I give him a quick bow (which is customary between karate members) and turn my attention back to the class.

Not a single word was exchanged between us for the rest of the class. We made eye contact when the entire class (including Fenris and I) burst out laughing when little Gabriella farted in the middle of an intense push up set towards the end of the class. It was fleeting, but nice nonetheless (though, not for Gabriella. The poor thing was red with embarrassment and sped through the doors into her mother's arms as soon as the class ended!).

On my way to the exit after my shower, I literally walk into a large, solid object right in front of the women's changing room.

"Ouch! Oh! Alistair! Hey!"

"Hey, Marian!" A beaming Alistair stoops down to kiss me affectionately on the cheek, "How are you, beautiful?"

"Good," I smile and kiss him back, "Just finished a karate lesson. Maker, I am  _sore_  in the shoulders. Yesterday's workout really killed me, Al! And I thought I was fit!"

"You  _are_  fit, beautiful. It's just the sudden change of routine that your body's not used to. It came as a bit of a shock to your shoulder muscles. When was the last time you did an Arnold press?"

"Months," I reply, absentmindedly rubbing my left shoulder. "I feel sorry for poor Eleanor. She's got herself a personal trainer for a boyfriend!"

"That woman is so out of shape, it's not even funny," Alistair laughs, "We did some weight training and a bit of cardio today. It was  _hilarious_! She was out of breath after only a minute's jog, and she couldn't lift anything heavier than five pounds!  _Five_  freaking  _pounds_ , Marian!"

"Oh, she's here?" I ask after a bout of laughter, "Is that why you're standing right in front of the women's changing room? I was beginning to wonder whether the pervert in you has finally emerged," I smirk, nudging him lightly in the ribs.

"Ouch! Look at me bleeding all over the place! You're just not very nice, are you?" he says with feigned hurt.

As the two of us carry on giggling like a pair of five year olds that are up to no good, I feel something brush against my right shoulder. I look up to see a curtain of white hair swishing around as a figure dressed in black from head to toe rushes past us and out of the gym.

Our giggles die out almost instantaneously.

"So, he still shows up to help with your classes, eh?" Alistair asks with a hint of sourness in his voice.

"Yeah," I nod slowly, my eyes still fixed on the exit, "Didn't skip a single day."

"Well then, that's a good thing, isn't it?" Alistair asks in what I assume is an attempt to cheer me up, "It means he still wants to see you?"

"Actually, it means he still wants to earn a living," I reply dryly, "But, whatever, Al. I don't care as much as I used to. It's been months."

"Yeah… I just want you to be happy, Marian," Alistair murmurs, taking me in his arms and gently pulling me in for a loving embrace, "I hate seeing you hurt."

"Time heals all wounds," I murmur into his chest, my arms wrapped around his waist.

"That it does," he says against my hair, "That it does."

"Alistair?"

Alistair and I start and quickly turn around, Alistair's arms still wrapped around me, and see Eleanor Cousland standing right at the entrance to the women's changing room, her hair damp and her gym bag hanging awkwardly from her shoulder, staring at the spectacle before her.

"Eleanor!" Alistair grins, "I was beginning to think you drowned in the shower!" He doesn't even loosen his grip from around my waist.

"Hey, Eleanor," I smile. I, for one, unwrapped my arms from around Alistair. I mean, the  _look_  in that woman's eyes! It's  _murderous_.

"Hi…" she says slowly, eyeing Alistair's arms.

Sensing the intense awkwardness surrounding us, I glance up at Alistair and give him a time-to-let-go-of-me-and-see-to-your-girlfriend look. Getting the message, he promptly lets me go and swings his arms awkwardly at his sides. I pick my gym bag from the floor and leave a respectful distance between Alistair and myself (about five feet, seeing as Eleanor Cousland looks like she's about to pull out a gun and shoot me).

"Well… I'll see you guys around," I smile awkwardly as I slowly back away towards the glass sliding doors.

"See you, Marian!" Alistair smiles and waves, "And take it easy on yourself, beautiful." Eleanor Cousland's eyes narrow at that last word.

"Thanks, Al. Bye, Eleanor," I add with a brief wave.

"Bye," Eleanor Cousland responds rather coldly.

 _Hmm. She's the jealous type, I see_.

As I pull out of the parking lot, I find myself scanning the entire lot (which is really difficult seeing as it's raining cats and dogs) for any sign of  _him_. Any flash of white hair and caramel skin.

But I see nothing.

All I see is the image of the back of his head after he swiftly brushed past me, touching my shoulder with his.

I can still feel the strange prickling sensation that the touch left on my shoulder.

* * *

"Marian?"

"Yes, Merrill?"

"Any word from Carver since… since he left?" Merrill asks in a small voice.

"Not since his farewell letter," I reply. I glance up at her to see that she looks thoroughly sad. "Have you tried writing to him? Mother and I have, and he keeps ignoring us, but with you, it might be different. He's always ignored us. Don't take it as a sure sign that he'll do the same to you."

Merrill merely nods silently, taking great care to avert her gaze from mine. I feel a wave of pity wash over me when I realise that her eyes are glistening with tears.

"Oh, kitten," Isabela coos, reaching across her kitchen table to stroke Merrill's black hair, "He'll write back, I'm  _sure_. He's crazy about you."

"Then why would he leave so suddenly?" Merrill sniffs.

"Because he's Carver," I say. "He's very impulsive. And he's always wanted to join the militia. Talked about it all the time when he was a kid. I guess he saw this as his opportunity to finally make that dream come true. But he really cares about you, Merrill."

"You can still visit him, Merrill," Anders says soothingly as he deposits his cigarette butt in an ash tray, "And he can visit you. It's not like he's confined to the Gallows." Hazel brown eyes still fixed on the ash tray, he mutters "Fucking Gallows" in a very sour tone.

"What's that, kitten?" Isabela asks distractedly as she paints her fingernails.

"I fucking  _hate_  the Kirkwall militia," he says darkly, "They're all nut jobs over there."

"How so?" I ask curiously.

"The militia, like a State, is supposed to be secular," Anders explains, "Religion should never interfere with matters of State. When that happens, things go pear shaped. People stop considering individual rights and liberties and start using faith as a reason and answer to everything. Isabela, pass me the smokes, would you?"

"Sure." Isabela slides the cigarette pack across the table.

"Thanks," Anders says. We all wait patiently as he lights his cigarette and inhales. "Commander Meredith is a Chantry freak. She's ultra-religious, which naturally means that she runs the militia in strict adherence to Chantry law. Whenever given the opportunity, she openly declares her hatred of science and how 'blasphemous' scientific findings are and how the Chantry is right about fucking everything."

"The evolution versus creationism argument again, I take it?" I ask with a slight grin.

"Exactly," Anders nods as he exhales puffs of smoke. He pauses and contemplates something for a while, the dark expression on his face slowly intensifying. "Do you know where the  _National School of Science and Medicine_  is located in Kirkwall?"

Merrill, Isabela and I all shake our heads 'No'.

"In the Gallows. It's literally built in the Gallows itself."

"Umm… is that normal?" Isabela asks before applying blood red nail polish to her left pinkie.

Anders raises an eyebrow at her.

"What do you think?" he asks darkly.

"Err… no?" Isabela says hesitantly.

"Of course not!" Anders explodes, slamming his fist on the kitchen table. "Why the fuck would it be normal? When in Thedas was it normal to build a freaking med school in a military base?" He glares at us all, as if daring us to answer his rhetorical (I'm assuming it's rhetorical) question.

_What in Thedas is wrong with him?_

"Anders, you need to calm down," Isabela says sternly, abandoning her nail polish.

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down, Isabela!" Anders bellows. He furiously puts out his cigarette in the ash tray and springs out of his chair.

"If you're not going to calm down and keep the fuck down, then leave," Isabela says firmly.

Anders stares at her, his chest heaving and his eyes almost mad with fury.

"Fine!" he snapped. He snatches up his phone and keys and walks out of the kitchen. Less than five seconds later, we hear the front door slam shut behind him.

"What was  _that_  about?" I ask Isabela, whose luscious lips are now in a thin, stern line.

"He's mad," she replies in a hard tone.

Feeling that there's much more to the story, I hastily excuse myself and rush down to catch up with Anders. I've never seen him so  _angry_. And for such a silly reason, too!

As soon as the elevator doors open, I run out of the building and stop right outside. I see Anders leaning against the wall to my left with his eyes closed.

"Anders?" I say softly. He opens his eyes and looks at me. When he doesn't say anything, I slowly approach him. "Hey," I say gently, "Are you okay?"

He watches me with his kind hazel eyes, a small smile slowly forming on his thin lips.

"Yeah," he nods, "Yeah, I'm fine."

I lean against the wall next to him and watch the cars drive by on the road opposite us.

"So," I say casually, "Wanna talk about it?"

"About what?"

"About why you completely lost it up there."

"Oh," he says dryly, " _That_." He inhales deeply and lets out a prolonged sigh. "This is kind of difficult for me to explain." He meets my gaze, his eyes filled with worry. "I'm… I'm bipolar. Also known as manic-depressive; whatever you wanna call it."

 _Oh_.

 _Talk about shocking_.

_Anders? Bipolar?_

"I… I didn't know," I murmur stupidly.

"Of course you didn't. I didn't tell you. I didn't tell anyone. Isabela and Merrill know because Merrill recognised my medication."

 _Right. Nurse Merrill_.

"So, you take pills, then?"

"Yep. Mood stabilisers. I use them whenever an episode starts or threatens to start, which is basically what happened upstairs."

I remain silent for a while as I allow my brain time to digest what it's just been told.

"When were you diagnosed?" I ask quietly.

"When I was eleven," he replies. "My parents were horrified, naturally. Gave them yet another reason to despise me."

"Your parents did not despise you," I quickly tell him. "How could you say that? No parent could despise their child because of an illness."

"Mine did," he replies simply. "That's why they were so glad when I went to med school. They finally got rid of me."

"Don't talk like that, Anders. You're a wonderful person, you really are. No one in their right mind can hate you, let alone your parents."

"You're too kind," he smiles. "But yeah. There you have it. I'm bipolar."

A thought suddenly occurs to me.

"Is that why you went to med school?" I ask. "I mean, is that what got you interested in science and medicine and all?"

"You could say that," he replies. He checks the time on his wrist. "I should go. Got a couple of patients to see before I close up for the night."

"Kay," I smile. It's so easy to forget that this tall, lanky blonde in a tattered black Metallica t-shirt and faded jeans is the most visited GP in both Darktown  _and_  Lowtown. And he does it all for  _free_. It's incredible. It really is.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he says. "Maybe we could go out for a drink? If you're free, that is."

"I'd like that," I beam. He smiles back at me, his eyes roaming over my face. "Want me to drive you to the clinic?" I ask.

"No, it's all right," he says shyly, "It's not too far. The entrance to Darktown's just a couple of blocks away. I'll manage. Besides, I need to walk off the bipolarness within me," he grins.

"Is that even a word?" I laugh.

"Nope!" he laughs and pushes himself from against the wall. As I watch him walk away, he raises his arm and waves at me without turning back to look at me.

When he turns round a corner and disappears from view, I head back into the building. When I look at my reflection in the dirty elevator mirror, I see that I'm still smiling. Anders has that effect on people.

"Where were you?" Isabela asks from her place on the sofa, where she and Merrill are watching the seven o'clock evening news.

"Just checking on Anders," I reply, throwing myself between them on the sofa.

"Don't tell me you've got the hots for him!" Isabela grins naughtily and nudges me in the ribs.

"Don't be ridiculous, Bela! Of course not!"

"Just checking," she smirks.

"How was karate today?" Merrill asks through a mouthful of stale popcorn.

"Good. Saw Alistair. Eleanor Cousland wasn't very happy when she came out of the changing room and saw Alistair hugging his ex, but apart from that, everything was fine."

"Was she livid?" Isabela asks, her eyes lighting up.

"Murderous is more like it."

"She does come off as the jealous type," Isabela says. "Do you remember how clingy she was at  _Fleur D'Orlais_? Whenever Alistair looked at you or talked to you, she would caress his forearm and bat her eyelashes at him! It was ridiculous!"

"I think she's threatened by you, Marian," Merrill says.

"Why in Thedas would she be threatened by me?" I ask incredulously. "There's nothing to be threatened by!"

"Says the tall, lean, gorgeous karate master sex goddess with a pair of blue eyes that could hypnotise," Isabela smirks.

"Oh, stop," I laugh. "The last thing I could be is a sex goddess. And my eyes do not hypnotise."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," Isabela grins. "Merrill, how many times has Anders gushed on and on about Miss Hawke's stunning blue eyes? Isn't that what he calls them?  _Stunning_?"

"Stunning, striking, electrifying," Merrill recounts with a giggle. "He just goes on and on and on!"

"Shut up, you two! He does not!"

"Oh, look, Merrill! She's  _blushing_!"

I sink lower into the sofa and try my best to block out the laughter erupting from either side of me and focus on the news.

When I notice the redheaded policewoman onscreen, I sit up straight and strain my ears to listen.

"Shhh! Let me hear this, guys."

"' _Nothing more can be said on the subject until the victim's relatives have been located and notified_.'"

"' _Chief Inspector Aveline, could you at least confirm the cause of death_?'" a journalist asks.

"' _Nothing can be confirmed until a post mortem has been performed on the body. No further questions regarding the matter will be accepted_.'"

"This is in Lowtown!" Isabela gasps when she recognises the street behind Chief Inspector Aveline. "It's only a couple of blocks away!"

Only a couple of blocks away.

That's exactly what Anders said about Darktown.

' _It's not too far. The entrance to Darktown's just a couple of blocks away.'_

The three of us jump when a phone suddenly rings.

Two pairs of scared, wide eyes meet mine when we realise that it's mine.


	30. Chapter 30

"Hello?" I say with a shaky voice.

"Marian?"

"Uncle Gamlen?" I breathe a sigh of relief. The call clearly isn't about Anders, which means he's fine, right?

Right?

"I need you to come down to the hospital," he says in a rough voice.

"The hospital? Why, what's happened? Are you okay? Are you sick? Is it Carver?" I ask frantically, worry quickly replacing relief.

A long pause ensues and I know that something's wrong.

I can feel it in my very bones.

"Just…" he gulps audibly, "Just come to the Hightown Hospital, Marian. As soon as you can. It's… it's urgent."

"Uncle Gamlen, tell me what's wrong!" I demand, the pitch of my voice getting unnaturally higher.

"Come quickly," he says, his voice trembling. He hangs up after that.

I stare at the television in front of me, my hand still clutching my phone to my ear.

"Marian?" Isabela asks, bringing her face closer to mine. "Marian, what's wrong?"

I blink rapidly and slowly put my phone down.

"I don't know," I whisper, my eyes still staring straight ahead as my brain tries its best to find out what could've happened. "He wouldn't say."

I suddenly stand up, making Merrill jump and consequently spilling popcorn all down her front.

"I have to go to the hospital," I inform them shakily as I take my keys from the coffee table. The two girls exchange an incredibly worried look before they both get up and stand on either side of me.

"Why?" Isabela asks worriedly.

I shake my head vigorously, feeling as though I'm about to go out of my mind with worry and confusion.

"I don't know, Isabela! Gamlen wouldn't tell me anything!"

"Okay then," Isabela says hurriedly, "want us to come with you?"

"No, it's all right." I start moving towards the front door. "I have to go. I'll call you guys later." I leave without waiting for a response.

On my way to the hospital, I barely notice where I'm going. Somehow, by some miracle from the Maker, I manage to arrive at the hospital without having a car crash or running over a pedestrian.

I park my car in the first spot I find and sprint towards the entrance to the hospital. As soon as I'm in the glossy white hall, I spot Uncle Gamlen and Carver sitting in the waiting area, their faces as white as a ghost.

I immediately run to them, feeling incredibly alarmed at the expression on their faces when they both look up and see me.

"What happened? Carver, what's wrong? Did you get hurt in the Gallows? Are you sick?" I ask rapidly.

Carver merely looks up at me from his retractable seat, his eyes bloodshot and his lower lip trembling.

"Marian…" Uncle Gamlen says in an incredibly hoarse voice. "I'm so sorry…"

"What for?" I demand. I'm incredibly frantic at this stage. "Sorry for what, Gam? What the fuck's happened? Tell me!"

"Marian Hawke?" an authoritative female voice asks right behind me. I turn around to see Chief Inspector Aveline looking at me with a peculiar look in her intelligent green eyes. Pity, maybe?

"Yes?" I ask.

She presses her lips together and watches my face for a brief moment before she says, "Come with me."

I don't move at first. I just turn around to look at Gamlen and Carver, feeling utterly lost. When Gamlen slowly nods at me, I turn back to Chief Inspector Aveline and follow her deeper into the ER.

When I realise that she's taking me to the wards, my already panicking heart tightens further in my chest. I can feel the blood rushing in my ears, and I absolutely don't know what to think.

For the first time ever, my mind is blank. No thoughts are running through it whatsoever.

I'm taken past the wards and even deeper into the hospital. There are fewer rooms here. Much fewer.

Finally, Aveline stops in front of white double doors. I read the label on it.

 **MORGUE**.

"Why are we stopping here?" I ask nervously.

Aveline pauses and partially turns her head towards me.

"This is where we need to go," she replies in a soft, sad voice. "For... identification purposes."

_Identification purposes?_

Now I'm _really_  confused.

She pushes open the heavy doors and walks in. Hesitantly, I follow her, feeling confused like I never have in my entire life.

As soon as I step into the large, eerily silent room, I'm plunged into a sudden, harsh coldness. My eyes swivel around nervously and my stomach clenches when I see the mortuary freezers all around the room.

"Have my uncle and brother already been here?" I ask shakily as I continue to follow the Chief Inspector further into the morgue.

"Yes," she responds. "They had just left when you arrived."

"Oh." Suddenly, a thought occurs to me. "Where's my mother, then? She was visiting some friends today. Did you call her too?"

She doesn't say anything in response. Just as I'm about to repeat my question, a man in white robes approaches Aveline, a clipboard in his hand.

"Chief Inspector," he nods solemnly. His eyes glance at me, and I see the same peculiar look on his face that I saw on Aveline's in the waiting area.

"Jowan," Aveline nods back. She turns to me and presses her lips together. "This is the final family member," she tells the coroner.

"I see," he replies. He sets his clipboard down on a metal table and heads towards a corpse freezer. He opens it and slides out the metal tray supporting an object covered in a white sheet.

A corpse.

Suddenly, I wave of nausea hits me.

I've never seen a corpse before. I'm not counting the night Carver and I found Bethany drowning in her own blood because… because that wasn't a corpse. That was my  _sister_. I refuse to think of her as anything else.

But there's no escaping the fact that this  _is_  a corpse. It looks just like they do in movies.

"Are you okay?" Aveline asks me, concern evident in her tone.

I must look absolutely ill right now. I  _feel_  ill.  _What am I doing here? Why are they showing me a corpse?_  I want to be with my friends, joking and laughing on Isabela's old couch, eating stale popcorn and watching a movie.

Why the  _fuck_  am I in a morgue? Why do Gamlen and Carver look like _shit_?

What the  _fuck_  is going on?

When I don't respond, Aveline puts a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Hey," she says in a very soft voice, "We don't have to do this now if you don't feel well."

"Do  _what_  now?" I ask weakly. "Why am I here? What do you want from me?" When I receive no response, I throw my hands up in frustration. "Just… just get it over with, okay?" My voice breaks at the end of my sentence, and I belatedly realise that fresh, warm tears are rolling down my face.

Aveline merely gazes at me silently.

"Do you faint at the sight of blood?" she asks me. I shake my head no.

She steps back and looks at coroner Jowan, who looks just as anxious as Aveline does. Aveline nods at him, and he nods back. Then, before I can stop him, he slowly pulls the white cloth away from the corpse's face, all the way down to her navel.

The first thing I experience is a gag reflex, closely followed by absolute shock and horror.

The corpse's face is so badly bashed that, if it weren't for the breasts, it would have been impossible for me to identify its gender, let alone who it is. There's also a long, deep vertical gash that starts right above her breasts and ends at her navel.

"What happened to her?" I ask breathlessly.

"Do you know who she is?" Aveline asks, ignoring my question.

"No!" I reply. "Should I?"

I look at the corpse more closely in an attempt at picking up anything that seems familiar, all the while trying not to throw up. The hair is covered in dried blood and dirt, so I can barely make out that it's of a greyish shade.

Little pieces of the puzzle are slowly beginning to add up in my mind, but I deliberately shut them off, forbidding them from making any sense.

"Her eyes are closed," I note. "I… I need to see her eyes."

After exchanging another anxious look with Aveline, Coroner Jowan touches the corpse's eyelids with gloved fingers and opens its eyes.

My knees begin to buckle violently beneath me.

Blank, pale blue eyes stare back at me, lifeless.

Bloodshot.

The  _exact_  shade of blue as Carver's eyes.

I shake my head slowly, staring at the corpse with disbelief. Suddenly, it all comes crashing down on me. Suddenly, it all adds up.

Everything is muted, and the room starts spinning rapidly around me. I'm no longer aware of anything. I can't hear, I can't see, I can't feel, I can't _think_.

The next thing I know, blackness clouds my vision before I'm plunged into a deep, dark void of oblivion.

* * *

Trauma.

It's strange how it can cause one to completely shut down. I experienced it for the first time when my father died. Then with Bethany. And now with my mother.

My  _mother_.

The woman who bore me, gave birth to me, fed me, cared for me and loved me more than her own flesh.

My closest and dearest friend.

My  _mother_  is gone.

It doesn't make sense. I try my best to reconcile with it, to accept it, but my brain just refuses to do so. Instead of trying to cope with my loss, I've completely shut down. I'm like this inanimate object, barely able to do even the most basic, mundane things, such as going to the bathroom and eating. It's like I've forgotten how to  _exist_.

We just came back from the funeral. The second funeral in less than a year.

First my dad, then my sister, and now my mother.

My family members are dying, one by one.

The pain that I feel in my chest is  _unbearable_. My mother was my  _everything_.

I'll never hear her kind, gentle voice again. I'll never see her warm smile, and the intelligent twinkle in her pale blue eyes…

I'll never feel the warmth of her loving embrace, or the tenderness of her soothing kisses.

Fresh, warm tears start to well up in my eyes as the pain in my chest intensifies. Although I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, my legs feel like jelly. Even in the funeral, as the coffin was being lowered into the ground, I couldn't stand without Carver supporting me. At one point, I actually collapsed into a heap on the grass, my chest heaving and my sobs echoing throughout the graveyard.

Carver has my mother's pale blue eyes. Blue eyes that are now filled with a permanent sadness uncharacteristic of one  _so_ young. Blue eyes that are so difficult to look into because they remind me  _so_  much of her.

He's taking this as badly as I am, but he deals with it in his own way. He's taken a leave of absence from the military for the time being. Most of the time, he's in his room, pulverising his punching bag just as hard as he did when Bethany died.

The police still don't know who did it. All they know is that it's happened before and that the killer (or killers) uses latex gloves when committing his crimes. They also discovered a pattern: all of the victims so far were middle aged women.

A knock on the door startles me.

"Come in," I call out in a hoarse voice.

I don't even bother to turn and see who it is when I hear the door slowly open.

"Marian?"

My incessant sniffing comes to a halt. Barely believing my ears, I slowly turn my head towards the voice.

I literally feel my tearful, bloodshot eyes widen when I see the tall, slim, white-haired man standing by my door, watching me with an unsure look in his moss-green eyes. When I don't say anything, he takes a cautious step closer to my bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I look away and resume staring at the floor, my surprise at seeing him very quickly wearing away.

He walks around the bed to where I'm sitting and awkwardly stands a few feet away from me.

"I… I'm so sorry for your loss, Marian," he says quietly.

I merely nod, eyes still fixed on the ground.

"Would you prefer if I left?" he asks politely.

"No, it's all right."

I look up at him, my vision blurry. He looks at me, his eyes holding mine, before he slowly makes his way to the bed and sits down next to me.

"I wanted to go to the funeral," he says, "but I was worried that you didn't want me there."

"I probably wouldn't have noticed," I reply honestly. "I was half passed out and hysterical throughout the entire thing."

Apparently at a loss of words, he merely nods.

We spend the next few minutes sitting in silence.

"How did you find out?" I ask him.

"Varric told me when he called to tell me that the karate classes are cancelled for the rest of this month."

"Oh."

I feel him edge closer to me.

"I… I should've been there for you," he says, his voice filled with regret. "When you first found out, I mean."

"You've got your own problems, Fenris," I tell him. "You don't need to burden yourself with mine."

"I do," he says very quickly. I look up at him, surprised. I see a very familiar fire in his eyes; a passionate, intense fire that I've only ever seen in him. "I care for you, Marian," he continues in a serious tone. "More than I ever dreamed that I would care for  _anyone_. And knowing that you were hurting without being there for you was  _torture_. I… I never want that to happen again."

I keep staring at him, the tear drops clinging to my lashes making me blink repeatedly.

"Why did you leave?" I finally ask.

He looks away from me and focuses on his intertwined fingers.

"I've thought about the answer a thousand times," he says quietly. "I was…  _overwhelmed_." His eyes look up at me, tender and warm, but repenting too. "I had never felt that way before and… it  _scared_  me," he explains. "Suddenly, my life was all about someone else. It was too much. I… I was a coward." His voice rough with emotion, he looks away from me again. "If I could go back, I would stay. Tell you how I felt."

"What would you have said?" I ask hesitantly.

He turns to meet my eyes again, the look on his face so loving and tender, it brings an intense rush of warmth to my otherwise empty, hollow chest.

"Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you," he says, his voice filled with raw emotion. He angles his body towards me and cups my face in his hands, bringing his face closer to mine.

"Forgive me, Marian. Forgive me for walking out on you like that. Every night I would find myself awake, remembering your voice, your smile, your touch. I yearned for you, Marian, but I was too afraid to do anything about it."

"Afraid of being overwhelmed again?" I ask.

"Afraid of being rejected by you," he answers. "A part of me  _wanted_  to be rejected by you. I felt like a fool. I thought it better if you hated me. I deserved no less."

"I could never hate you," I whisper.

I close my eyes as he strokes the side of my face with the back of his fingers.

"If there is a future to be had," he says, his breath hot against my wet face, "I will walk into it gladly at your side."

He closes his eyes and comes in closer, his lips hovering over mine. He gives me one quick kiss before he pulls me into an embrace, holding me close to his racing heart.

I wrap my arms around his neck and close my eyes, resting my head on his shoulder. I inhale and take in his musky scent, and somewhere deep inside my battered, empty heart, I feel a warm glow.

We stay like that for a while before I suddenly break down into uncontrollable tears when my mother crosses my mind.

"He maimed her," I sob into his shoulder, "He b-bashed her face and cut her up! I c-couldn't even re-recognise her wh-when I fir-first saw her body!"

Fenris' arms tighten around me, and he starts to slightly rock me back and forth, whispering "everything's going to be all right" into my ear until I finally quiet down and my sobs downgrade to sniffles.

When the old grandfather clock strikes nine in the main hall downstairs, he quietly asks me if I want to eat something. I shake my head no before I ask him, "Do you?"

"No," he replies as he absentmindedly plays with the fingers on my left hand.

Soon after that, I start to nod off. He helps me out of my black funeral clothes and into my comfortable pyjamas, leads me to the bathroom where I wash my face and brush my teeth, and then tucks me into bed before he slides in next to me, his body over the covers. His arms wrapped around me, I fall asleep with my head resting on his chest, half convinced that I'm dreaming. When I wake up crying in the middle of the night, he's still there, his lips pressed against the top of my head, letting me cry until I exhaust myself and fall back asleep.

At around dawn, a strange feeling on the back of my right hand wakes me up. Barely opening my right eye, I see Fenris' handsome Grecian profile, and I realise that he's very lightly kissing the back of my hand, his fingers intertwined with mine. For just a second, that makes me forget my pain.

For just a second.

When I finally wake up at around eight, he's not there. Just to make sure that it wasn't all a beautiful dream my brain created in a desperate attempt to cheer me up, I deeply inhale into the pillow on my right, and sure enough, it smells of musk.

The Maker must've finally decided to have mercy on me.

I guess He decided that taking away my sister and mother in the space of eight months is a bit too much, so he cut me some slack and put Fenris back into my life. _  
_

Suddenly, my phone buzzes on the bedside table. I lazily reach across the bed and take it, sliding my index finger across the screen to unlock it.

**Message from Fenris:**

**You're beautiful when you're asleep**.

And despite all of the pain and sorrow that's enveloping my life, I smile.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a little saucy Fenris bit down there. Thought you ought to know, since it's been a while ;)

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

I never really realised the truth of this quote until now. I mean, I've been through a lot of crap in my life, what with losing my dad and Bethany and fleeing Ferelden, but losing my  _mother_? I was always certain that I'd never be able to make it without her. Ever since I was a child, the very thought of her death would make me cry myself to sleep. If it was the topic of conversation or if it happened in a book or a movie, I'd be bawling my eyes out.

And yet, here I am, a month and a half later, and I'm… well… surviving.

Existing.

Not quite living, but I'll get there. At least I hope I will.

Life has resumed its course of normality. Carver is back in the militia, and I'm back to teaching my karate lessons. It'll never be the same on the inside, of course. Carver, who already barely smiles, didn't utter more than two words at one time during this last month and a half. He used to really enjoy drawing too, but he's completely abandoned that past time.

As for me, I still find it a bit difficult to eat. I can't laugh anymore. Well, not genuinely, at least. I still manage to fake a few laughs when I'm around my friends, but I think that, deep inside, they all know that it's just a show I put on for their sake.

For the sake of  _normality_ , whatever that means.

Put simply, life has just lost its allure. I just don't care about anything anymore. Even my hair, which I have so diligently kept very short for the past three years, is starting to grow into an alarming mullet-shaped... thing.

Which is why I now find myself seated in a black leather chair, having my hair cut by an incredibly chatty Antivan hairdresser in Isabela's favourite hair salon,  _Chic_.

Needless to say, Isabela forced me into this predicament.

"You have such beautifully healthy hair, serah," the hairdresser says with a strong Antivan accent.

"Thanks," I smile at his reflection in the mirror before me.

"She has  _virgin_  hair," Isabela purrs from the leather sofa behind me, not moving her eyes away from the hairstyle magazine she's been flipping through for the past ten minutes or so. "A twenty five year old woman with  _virgin_  hair. Have you ever heard of such a thing, Ignacio?"

"Certainly not!" Ignacio laughs as he snips at the hair on the nape of my neck. "And I must say, I haven't seen many beautiful young women with mullets either."

I roll my eyes as Isabela bursts into a loud fit of laughter behind me.

"Oh,  _very_  funny," I say dryly.

"You know you love me," Isabela coos.

"You guys talk as though it's a crime to have virgin hair," I mumble.

"Honey, in this time and age, it's a crime to have a virgin  _anything_ ," Isabela laughs.

"Well then, I guess I should be locked up then, shouldn't I?"

"Nah," Isabela grins, her amber eyes glinting mischievously, "Fenris is going to make sure that doesn't happen. And  _very_ soon," she adds with a wink.

I roll my eyes and spend the next fifteen minutes trying my best to avoid any eye contact with Ignacio (am I the only one who finds it really awkward when you're having your hair cut and you and your hairdresser make random eye contact in the mirror?)

I now know why Isabela and Zev swear by Ignacio. I mean, the man can  _cut_. My hair's never looked so  _neat_! I'd definitely go to him again, as long as he doesn't pester me about getting highlights for a full half hour like he did today.

"You look  _gorgeous_ ," Isabela says when we get into my car. "You should call Fenris and ask him if he can join us for drinks at the Hanged Man. He can finally meet Zev!"

"Kay." I yank out my phone from my pocket and call Fenris' number.

"Marian?"

"Hey, Fenris. Bad time?"

"No, not at all," he quickly says. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," I reply. "How are you?"

"Fine," he says in that sinfully sexy voice of his. "I was just thinking about you, actually."

I blush and turn my face away from Isabela, who is very intently watching me as though I'm doing the most interesting thing in Thedas.

"Yeah?" I grin.

"Yeah." I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Listen uhh, I was just on my way to have a few drinks with Bela and an old friend. Care to join us?"

"Sure. Is this old friend someone I know?"

"I don't think so. But that's fine, right?" I ask hopefully.

"Yeah, it's fine. It'll take me at least twenty minutes. Is that fine?"

"I can pick you up," I offer.

"I'm already in Lowtown. I'll walk."

Walking is to Fenris as peanut butter is to jam, it seems.

"Kay. We'll be in the main floor."

"Okay. See you soon."

"See you!"

I hang up and look up to see Isabela grinning widely.

"So, the two karate men will finally meet!" she says excitedly.

I give her a weak smile, start my car and begin the drive to Lowtown.

"Let's check out the radio," Isabela suddenly says, moving her hand towards the dashboard. She turns it on and sings along to a song by Adele that I'm not familiar with.

When I turn the corner and drive into the Hanged Man's parking lot, I see an extremely handsome and tanned blonde step out of a shining black Lamborghini.

"Zev!" Isabela jumps out of the car as soon as I park it and rushes towards Zevran, who has a wide grin on his heavily tanned face.

"Isabela," he grins and kisses her on the cheek. "My, but you look beautiful today! Or is it just the sunshine that makes you dazzle so? It seems that whenever we are together, it's always so dark and…  _sweaty_."

"You're such a gentleman, you know that?" Isabela says dryly. "You're embarrassing me in front of our dear Hawke!"

"Ah, my bellísima!" Zevran calls out when I step out of my car. I grin and walk into his waiting arms. "Your haircut is  _gorgeous_. I'm so glad I introduced Bela to Ignacio; the man does wonders!" He kisses me twice on each cheek. "How lucky I am to be surrounded by two of the most gorgeous women in all of the Free Marches."

"Just the Free Marches?" I ask with a pout. "You  _wound_  me, Zev."

"And I see her sense of humour is back!" Zevran laughs in delight.

I smile and squeeze his waist. "I've missed you, you Antivan menace, you."

"And I you, my dangerous Hawke," he purrs.

"All right you two, break it up!" Isabela says (with a hint of jealousy, dare I add). "It's not even Happy Hour yet and the two of you are already all over each other! I'll book you a room as soon as we're in, I promise."

"Sure. And make sure you get us the ' _Do not disturb the two ridiculously sexy people inside_ ' sign while you're at it," Zevran grins seductively.

"Okay," Isabela eyes flash dangerously, "And I'll make sure that the delicious, taciturn sex god with the white tattoos is given a night he'll never forget while you two are at it."

I stiffen slightly at the sound of that.

"Oh?" Zevran says with amusement. "And who might that be?"

"Your dangerous Hawke's boyfriend," Isabela replies with a malicious smirk.

Zevran stares down at me, his expression shocked.

"What's this?" he asks, the shock on his face very evident in his tone, "My Hawke landed herself one she claims as her own?"

"Uh-huh," Isabela nods, "And guess what? He's  _coming_.  _Here_. Right  _now_."

"Ah," Zevran pouts down at me. "I see. And here I thought I was going to have you two all to myself tonight. What a shame!"

"Guys?" I say, shielding my eyes from the glaring sunlight, "Can we go inside, maybe? Like, now? My skin's not as sun-friendly as yours, you know." I point at my right shoulder, where the skin's already turned into an angry pinkish shade.

"Oh, of course!" Zevran quickly says. He gently wraps one arm around Isabela's waist and the other around my own and begins to walk us to the entrance. "Our little snowflake here is melting away before our eyes, Isabela! Shame on us!"

"What terrible friends I have," I tut and shake my head in feigned disappointment. "I'm ashamed, really."

Zevran laughs as Isabela rolls her eyes and says "All right, don't rub it in.  _Snowflake_ ," she adds with a mischievous grin.

We step into the cool and empty tavern and head straight to the bar.

"Hello, Corff!" Isabela says with an animated salute, "Quiet afternoon, eh?"

"Oh, just give it an hour and you'll see," Corff grins as he wipes a glass. "Serah Hawke!" he exclaims when he sees me, "How nice to see you again! You've been missed!"

"It's great to see you too, Corff," I grin appreciatively.

"And we had a shipment of Antivan brandy arrive just last night, Zev," Corff says, picking up another glass to wipe. "Fresh off the boat and right into your glass, my friend."

"Marvellous!" Zevran grins.

"So, an Antivan brandy, one lemonade, and a bottle of our 'finest' whiskey?" Corff asks us with a smile.

"Throw in a bottle of Agreggio with that," Isabela says, her eyes flashing over to meet mine, "We're expecting one more."

"All right," Corff says before he turns around and yells in the direction of the storage room behind the bar.

"Norah!" he calls out, his friendly tone suddenly impatient. "Norah, come out of there! We've got customers!"

"Co-coming!" a hiccupping female voice calls back out.

"Maker's breath," Corff mutters under his breath and shakes his head. "Drunk on the job  _again_. I'm reporting this to Varric, I am. I'm not taking this shit any longer."

"Drunk at four in the afternoon?" Zevran asks, his eyes flashing towards the storage room, "Now that's my kind of woman!"

"Oh?" Isabela says with a raised eyebrow. "So you're into  _married_  women, then Zev?"

"You know the truth of that much more than anyone else, my darling Isabela," Zevran says in a seductive tone (when is his tone  _not_  seductive?). "Or have you forgotten your dear, late husband and how he nearly caught us in the act already?"

"Hmmm. You have a point there," Isabela mutters.

"I always do, you know," Zevran winks.

"You folks have a seat and I'll get Norah to bring over your drinks," Corff smiles.

"Kay," the three of us reply before we head off to a table.

"Maker, I am  _thirsty_ ," I complain as soon as I fling myself into a chair.

"Let's just hope Norah manages to bring the drinks to our table in one piece," Isabela says with another eye roll. "That woman's drinking puts even sailors to shame!"

Right on cue, Norah appears from behind the bar with our drinks, which are miraculously well-balanced on a tray.

"One le-lemo-nade," she hiccups, placing the juice in front of me. "And an Anti-van br-brandy." Another hiccup as she sets down Zevran's drink before him. "Our finest whiskey," she places the bottle next to Isabela, "And the Ag-Agre-  _HICCUP_! Oh! Sorry!" she giggles drunkenly and shakily sets down the Agreggio on the table, "the Agreggio. Is there anyth-thing else you want?" she slurs.

"No, that'd be all, Norah," I smile up at her, trying my best not to turn my face away from her wafting breath.

"For now," Zevran adds with a playful smirk.

"Kay! Enjoy!" We all watch her as she turns around and hiccups her way back to the bar.

"She's lucky Varric isn't here today," Isabela mutters, her eyes fixed on Norah's back, "He'd have her fired on the spot if he ever saw her like this."

"Where is Varric?" I ask.

"Beats me. He doesn't exactly tell me these things. He's my boss, remember?" Isabela says, playing around with the stale peanuts in a small bowl at the centre of the table.

"Are we waiting for Mr. Tattoos, then?" Zevran asks when he notices that neither me nor Isabela have touched our drinks.

"Common courtesy, Zev. Don't they teach you that back in Antiva?" Isabela asks.

"Never heard of it," Zevran grins, winking at me when he catches my eye.

"Why am I not surpri-"Isabela stops short and lets out a little gasp. "Kitten, he's here," she whispers, her eyes staring at the tavern's entrance.

"Oh?" Zevran turns around, curiosity evident in his eyes.

I follow Isabela's eyes and see him.

I watch him as he walks further into the tavern, his eyes roaming around the tables until he finally spots us (the tavern's filled up considerably in the space of half an hour or so). Isabela smiles and waves, and he smiles back as he meanders his way through the tables.

Apart from his apparent beauty, I notice something else: All (sober) eyes are on him. I'm serious; everyone's looking at him. And he has absolutely  _no freaking clue_. In fact, with his shoulders a little slumped, you'd think he's almost embarrassed or ashamed to be seen in public. Like he's got some self-confidence issues.

Imagine that.  _Fenris_  with self-confidence issues. It's laughable.

"My, my…" Zevran whispers appreciatively. "Now  _this_ , I like."

I smirk and kick him lightly under the table.

"Hey," Fenris smiles down at first me, then the rest of the table.

"Hey," the three of us reply in a chorus.

"Here, sit by me," I say quickly, gesturing towards the empty chair on my right.

"Thank you," he murmurs before he lightly slides into his seat.

"What, no kiss for your snowflake?" Isabela smirks.

 _Shut up, Isabela_.

"Snowflake?" Fenris asks, his tone confused and his expression amused.

"I have no idea what she's going on about and I don't believe you've met Zevran," I say, very quickly and nonchalantly dismissing Isabela.

"No, I don't believe we have," Zevran says, his eyes glittering under the light. "Zevran Arainai," he bows his head in mock formality, "A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Fenris." He extends his hand across the table for Fenris to shake.

"Likewise," Fenris says, taking Zevran's hand in his own and giving it a firm shake.

"I've heard so much about you from that little minx," Zevran says, flashing me a saucy little smile.

"Oh? I don't believe I could say the same," Fenris responds coolly. I meet Zevran's eyes and give him an apologetic look. He very discreetly winks at me and smiles confidently.

"Fenris, Zevran used to help me out with my karate lessons. Before he busted his back, that is," I remind him.

"Indeed," Zevran says wisely. "If that crow hadn't responded to nature's call in the middle of the jogging path, I wouldn't have slipped on its shit and consequently, I wouldn't have ruined my back and quit the karate job, which means that you wouldn't have been introduced and this beautiful romance wouldn't have blossomed. Which makes me your matchmaker, funnily enough!"

He grins at the two of us proudly. Suddenly, the atmosphere to my immediate right turns very tense.

"Actually, it's the crow we should be thanking," I point out. "You said it yourself; if it weren't for it's pile of poop, you wouldn't have quit the job."

"Hmmm... you make a very valid point, my dear," Zevran says, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

Fenris silently pours some Agreggio into his glass and sips.

 _Poor Zevran. This must be_ **so** _awkward for him_.

"I called you twice before I got there, but you didn't answer," Fenris quietly says, leaning his face in closer to mine.

"Really? I didn't hear it ring," I say in bewilderment as I look around the table for my phone and pat my jeans pockets in search of it.

"I can't find my phone," I say in panic, my patting getting frantic.

"Maybe you left it in your car?" Isabela suggests.

"I'll go check."

I spring out of my seat, and in my haste, I trip over one of my chair's wooden legs. I let out a loud 'WHOOP!' before I feel a pair of strong arms around my waist.

"Still clumsy, I see?" Zevran's voice purrs into my ear. I blush and straighten up, freezing when I turn around and see the expression on Fenris' face.

He's standing too, his body slightly leaning forward and his arms hanging in mid-air with his hands reaching towards me, almost as though he was going to catch me as well.

Come to think of it, I think he  _was_  intending to catch me. And he probably would've, if Zevran didn't beat him to it. Unintentionally, might I add.

There's this thing you should know about Zevran: he's really… dextrous.

Agile.

 _Swift_.

Supernaturally so. I mean, Fenris is really nimble and light too, but Zev is just  _abnormal_.

And maybe it's just me, but Fenris looks absolutely  _murderous_  right now. When Zevran quickly returns to his seat, however, I know that it's  _not_  just me.

"Umm… I'll just… go to my car now," I say awkwardly. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Want me to come with you? I'll help you search," Fenris says, his expression suddenly calm again.

"Er, okay, yeah," I nod and smile. When my eyes meet Isabela's for a fraction of a second, she grins and winks at me. I roll my eyes at her and head out of the tavern with a very quiet Fenris by my side.

"I hope we find that stupid phone in my car," I mutter to him as soon as we're out in the dark and silent parking lot. "I don't think I left it at the hairdresser… I didn't use it at all there…"

As I fumble around with my keys by the driver's side of my car, I jump a little when I suddenly feel Fenris' warm lips against the side of my neck. My limbs immediately go limp and I involuntarily shiver. Standing behind me, he continues to slowly kiss me, softly moving his lips from the nape of my neck to beginning of my left shoulder, before he gently turns me around to face him. He fixes his eyes on mine, an urgency burning inside them, and presses his body against me before he slowly starts to kiss my lips, making my knees buckle and flooding my stomach with butterflies.

"Fenris," I whisper in between kisses.

"Hmmm?" That deep rumble from his chest alone nearly makes me go mad. He doesn't stop kissing me, so I don't exactly have a chance to get a single word out.

I snake my fingers through his hair and very slightly tighten my grip, signalling him to stop. He does, but he doesn't move his lips away from mine.

"I need you to do me a favour," I whisper against his lips.

"Anything," he whispers back.

"I want you to try to be nice to Zevran," I say.

He moves his face away from mine and looks at me, his brow slightly furrowed.

"Nice?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. I mean… not just to him, but all my friends. I noticed that you can be quite…  _cold_ towards them, especially when you're first introduced. They're my friends, Fenris. I've known most of them for a very long time. They matter to me. And it really sucks to see you guys not getting along."

I really adore my friends. Each and every one of them. Especially after my mother passed away, my love and attachment to them has grown and... I just hate seeing them treated as coldly as Fenris treats them. And without reason, too!

He looks at me without saying anything, clearly considering what I just said.

"Your friends don't exactly make it easy for me to get along with them," he says in a hard tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, whenever I see you with Alistair at the gym, you're either hugging, standing really close to each other, or… giggling together. And I know that you two have a history, so that just makes it difficult to watch you two be so close. And this  _Zevran_  character…" he says Zevran's name with such disgust, it literally hurts me. "He… he has no boundaries. I mean, the way he talks to you and looks at you and touches you and-"

"Touches me?" Now it's my turn to raise the brows.

"When you tripped," he clarifies.

"I tripped. He caught me before I fell face first on the ground. Is that so wrong?"

"I just don't like the vibe he gives off."

"And Anders?"

"Same with him. You don't realise how these men look at you!" Fenris says with frustration.

"They don't look at me in any way, Fenris. And even if they do, you should trust me enough to know that I wouldn't ever do anything to jeopardise what we have," I snap.

He stares at me, my sharp tone catching him my surprise.

I sigh. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"No, you're right," he shakes his head and looks at the ground. He doesn't speak again until he intently fixes his green eyes back on mine a few seconds later. "I should trust you. I… I'm sorry."

Suddenly feeling incredibly guilty, I purse my lips and hesitantly brush away his hair from his left eye.

"Shall we look for your phone, then?" he asks with his signature half smile.

"Yeah, let's do that," I smile back.

We find my phone in one of the cup-holders between the passenger and driver seats. By the time we get back to our table, Isabela and Zevran are cackling over some private joke.

"Ah, and the lovebirds are back!" Zevran says as Fenris and I take our seats.

"And looking a bit dishevelled," Isabela remarks with a devilish grin. I glance at Fenris and feel my stomach jolt when I see the state of his hair.

 _Oops_.

I laugh and attempt to brush off the comment by attracting Zevran and Isabela's attention to a drunken woman with an overflowing bust who just passed by our table. It works. As soon as their eyes focus elsewhere, Fenris' hands immediately flash up to his hair to smoothen it out. I have to bite my lower lip and suppress a giggle when I see that his cheeks are flushed.

After an hour or so of drinking and joking (with a lot of quiet listening and polite smiling on Fenris' part), Fenris' phone rings in the middle of a very…  _interesting_  recitation of Antivan poetry by Zevran.

"Excuse me, I need to take this," Fenris tells us before he quickly heads towards the tavern's exit.

I nod before turning back to a smirking Zevran.

"What is that?" I ask him over Isabela's loud cackles, "Sex poetry?"

"So the woman who initially recited it to me said," Zevran shrugs. "It was amusing at the time and thus, I've always remembered it."

"You get this sort of thing a lot, then?" I grin.

"Oh, more times than you can imagine, my snowflake."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Lover boy's coming back," Isabela mutters under her breath.

I turn around and see Fenris quickly approaching us. He stands next to me without giving any indication of intending to sit back down with the rest of us.

"What's up?" I ask, looking up at him from my seat.

"I have to go and meet someone," he tells me quietly.

"Ah. Okay. Nothing's wrong, right?"

"No, nothing's wrong," he smiles.

"Okay. Want me to drive you somewhere?"

"No, it's nearby. I'll walk."

 _Of course he'll walk_.

"Okay," I smile uncertainly. I almost get up to kiss him goodbye, but I remember his intense aversion to any form of PDA, so I don't.

He leans in closer to me with a smile on his face.

"I'll call you," he murmurs. I nod and smile back as he straightens back up and looks at Zevran and Isabela.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Zevran," he says in a surprisingly friendly tone. "And it was great catching up with you, Isabela. You guys have a good night."

"Pleasure's all mine," Zevran smiles.

"Night!" Isabela sings.

After one last smile directed at me, he quickly leaves and disappears into the midst of the crowded tavern.

Soon after that, Isabela and Zevran starts to get a bit too drunk to talk coherently anymore, which signals my time to leave.

"I'm off, guys," I say as I stand up and stretch. "You guys want me to drop you home or are you getting a cab?"

"We're getting a room here, kitten," Isabela purrs.

"Ooooh, I see how it is," I grin. "Kay! You guys have fun!"

"It's what we're best at," Zevran winks. "Goodnight, my snowflake."

"Night!"

Suddenly feeling really tired, I drive straight home, fully intending to have some much yearned for dinner and watch the food channel until I doze off on the sofa.

Which is exactly what happens, except my phone nearly gives me a heart attack when it very loudly emits a message alert just as I am about to doze off.

**Message from Fenris:**

**\- Are you home?**

Confused in my sleepy state, I squint my eyes against the blaring light of my phone's screen and type out a reply.

**\- Yep. Why?**

**\- Fenris: I need to talk to you. I didn't wake you, did I?**

_Uh, yeah, you did_.

**\- Nope!**

**\- Fenris: Good. I'm just a few minutes away**.

Oh. I thought he meant talk as in talk on the  _phone_.

 **\- Okay. I'll wait for you by the door**.

I sit up and blink at the television, feeling utterly lost.

I'm not sure what to make of this.

I'm really not sure at all.


	32. Chapter 32

The guy's a freaking  _owl_.

Seriously, he's never asleep! In all the time I've known him, I've never seen him sleep or nod off or even  _yawn_. I've never woken him up by calling him, which is something that he's done to me  _numerous_ times.

Such as  _now_.

Sometimes, I really wonder whether he's human. I wouldn't be surprised if he turns out to be some magical creature that only exists in fairy tales.

Like elves.

Hah. Imagine him with long, pointy ears. That's funny. Not to mention  _adorable_. I don't think I'd be able to get my hands away from them!

As I quietly giggle to myself at the image of Fenris with elf ears , I see a tall, slim figure quickly approaching my front door. It takes all of my focus and control to stop myself from bursting into a fit of laughter when he's close enough for me to see his face (and ears).

I'm a bad person.

"Hey," I smile when he stops before me.

"Hey," he says, and for the first time, he doesn't return the smile.

 _Uh-oh_.

Something's wrong.

"Come in." I step into the entrance hall and wait for him to follow suit. Standing awkwardly in the doorway, he slightly hesitates before he almost reluctantly steps in, his eyes darting nervously behind his silver curtain of hair.

"Are you okay, Fenris?" I ask with raised eyebrows. "You look kind of… fidgety."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the understatement of the year.

The guy can't stand still! He's nervously shifting his weight from one leg to the other, and his hands are restless at his sides.

"I… Nothing's wrong. I'm fine." He gulps and slowly looks up to meet my eyes. I don't like the look I see in his eyes. It's not one that I've seen in them before. They're filled with an uncertainty, I think? I can't quite put a finger on it, but uncertainty seems to be the most adequate word I can use to describe it.

"Umm, come on into the living room," I say, smiling in an attempt to diffuse the tension that is so stubbornly clinging to his lean frame.

"Is your butler awake?" he asks in a very low voice.

My eyebrows shoot up extremely high at his bizarre question.

"Bodahn? Uh, I dunno. He's in his room. I didn't really check to see if he's awake."

"Oh," he says. I see his Adam's apple move when he audibly gulps again. "May we go up to your room?" he asks in a very hesitant manner.

"Uhh… yeah. Sure. Why not?"

Seriously, at this rate, one of my eyebrows is going to disappear into my hair.

I turn around and head into the main hall, quickly ducking into the living room to turn off the television when I hear Nigella Lawson's excessive adjectives floating out of it. Fenris stops and waits until I resume my way upstairs to my bedroom.

When we get there, I head straight to one of the armchairs facing the fireplace and sit down, feeling a spark of butterflies in my stomach when I see Fenris slowly and very quietly shut the door behind him. His back turned to me, he stands by the door for a moment longer and takes a deep breath before he finally turns around to face me.

"What's up?" I ask from my place by the fire. "Fill me in."

His eyes moving from the ground to my face and back, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other again before he slowly makes his way towards me.

"I've been... thinking, lately," he begins. He stops right behind the armchair opposite mine and places his hands on its back.

"What about?"

His eyes focused firmly on the back of the chair, he gulps and resumes his talk.

"About…" Now a brilliant shade of green from the firelight, his eyes shoot up and pierce me with their sudden, intense gaze, "About  _you,_ " he finishes in a raw voice

I stare at him, struck by his words as though I've just been slapped really hard in the face.

 _Oh my god. Oh. My._ **God**.

His eyes holding mine, he slides his hands away from the armchair and slowly walks around until he's standing right in front of me, his hair falling over his eyes when he looks down at my face. Very slowly, he gets down on one knee so that our faces are level.

His hands visibly shaking, he very gently strokes my hair away from my eyes. I close my eyes and shudder, my throat suddenly feeling extremely dry. Then, when I feel his soft, full lips slowly press against mine, I know with certainty where this is going.

The kiss is gentle at first. Hesitant. And so slow that it's nearly  _maddening_. Such is the case with all of his kisses. Then, when I hear the moan that escapes his throat, I take things into my own hands.

Quite literally.

I snake my fingers through his hair and gently pull his face closer to mine. Still taking care to make the kiss gentle, I quicken the pace, to which he responds very eagerly. When I feel his tongue against mine, I wrap my legs around his waist and push myself against him, shivering when I feel his hands slide down to my waist. My arms wrapped around his neck, he slowly stands up, never breaking the kiss, and with my legs still wrapped around him, he carries me to my bed. Very gently, he lays me on my back, moving his lips away from my mouth and down the side of my face to my neck. A moan escapes me when he very slowly rests his body over mine, feeling every inch of his long, lean frame against me.

He stops kissing my neck and slightly pulls back to look at me, cradling my face in his hands.

"Are you okay with this?" he asks in a breathless whisper.

"Only if you are," I whisper back.

Flashing me my favourite half-smile, he leans back in and kisses me, his lips moving urgently against mine. Then, as if I wasn't already going to pass out with desire, he thrusts against me, and for the very first time, I feel  _him_ , and I know that he's ready.

I slide my hands from his back to his chest and gently push him into a sitting position. I sit up on my knees, my eyes fixed on his, and feeling much braver than I ever imagined possible, I begin to unbutton his black shirt. His shallow breath cold against my scorching hot skin, I see him smile faintly before he slowly follows suit, his hands moving down to pull up my grey pyjama t-shirt. I stop undressing him long enough to allow him to slide the shirt over my head, after which I quickly finish off the rest of the buttons and slide his shirt away, revealing his lean, chiselled and intricately marked chest and abs.

_Somebody pinch me, I'm dreaming!_

"Ouch!"

"What?" Fenris suddenly stops and stares at me with a worried and startled look on his flushed face.

"You pinched me when you tried to unclasp my bra!" I wince, reaching my hand back to gingerly massage the area.

"Oh," he looks down, the blush on his cheeks intensifying. "Sorry. I… I've never removed anyone's... brassiere before."

_Brassiere?_

_Maker's breath, he is adorable!_

_Hey, at least now I know I'm not dreaming_.

"It's fine," I smile and kiss his lips. "Try again."

"Sure?" he asks with uncertainty.

"Positive. Just use both hands this time."

He smiles as he snakes his fingers across my back.

"Okay," he whispers before he slowly kisses me again.

When I feel the clasp being undone, a sharp nervousness suddenly grips me.

 _He's going to see me naked_.

 **Naked**.

He must've sensed my fear, because he stops halfway through pulling off my bra.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks in a soothing voice.

I seriously consider his request for a second.

_What? No, Hawke! You are NOT stopping him, young lady!_

"No," I shake my head and smile reassuringly. He nods, the corner of his lip moving into another little half-smile before he slowly pulls my bra off completely. Ordinarily, this would've made me feel two inches small. No one, and I mean  _no one_ , has seen my breasts naked in nearly fifteen years.

But Fenris- Maker bless him and his restraint- doesn't even look down at my now completely exposed breasts, even though it's his first time. His green eyes, intense and passionate, don't flicker away from mine, and I can't even begin to describe how comfortable that makes me feel. I mean, he's obviously going to see them at some point tonight, but at least he's not openly  _staring_  at them.

Not that I expected him to stare at them, of course. If it were any other guy, I would've expected that.

But not Fenris.

Well, maybe not even Alistair, but something tells me that thinking about what my ex-boyfriend would've done after unclasping my bra for the first time while I'm about to make love to Fenris isn't the best way to go about things right now.

Fenris brings his lips to my ear, his breath warm and moist against it.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, sending yet another intense shiver down my spine.

I smile shyly and slide my hands down his waist, where my fingers are met with the waist of his faded grey jeans. I undo the button, gently pull down the zipper, and start to pull them down. When I get them to his knees, he falls onto his back and allows me to pull them off completely.

As soon as they're off, I fling them onto the floor, pull off my own cotton track pants, and climb on top of him, straddling him around the waist. At this point, there's nothing between us but the thin fabric of underwear that each of us still has on. He slowly sits up, wrapping his arms around my naked torso, my breasts touching his chest. He cups my face in his hands and gazes at me in silence for a brief moment, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I've never done this before," he whispers.

"Neither have I," I whisper back.

"I know," he smiles. He brings down his face to my chest and kisses each of my breasts lightly. I bite my lower lip and close my eyes, a low sigh escaping my throat. I feel his hands slide down along my waist, where they linger for a moment before he grabs it and pushes me onto my back, my legs still straddled on either side of him. His body pressed against mine, I gently slide my hands down his back and dig my thumbs into the waistband of his briefs.

I shoot him a questioning look, silently asking him if what I am about to do is all right. He nods once, his breathing quick and jagged, and I pull down his briefs without looking away from his face.

He reaches down with one hand and pulls down the briefs all the way to his ankles, after which he kicks them off. Then, his hands are at the waist of my own underwear, and I slightly lift my hips up to allow him to pull it down.

_Gosh, I never knew it could take so long to undress! Or maybe it's because we're both such newbies?_

_Yeah, that must be it. I certainly can't imagine Isabela or Zevran taking this long. But then again, half of the fun is in the anticipation, right?_

_I'll just keep telling myself that._

Our lips meet again in sweet, tender kisses, before he pulls away and looks at me with an intensity that I've never seen even in him.

"Ready?" he whispers breathlessly.

Caressing his hair with slightly shaky fingers, I bring his face back down and kiss him.

"Ready," I whisper.

* * *

Let's all be honest here: there is no such thing as perfection. Life just doesn't work that way.

But waking up to feel the warmth of your lover's body curled up around yours with the steady beat of his heart lightly drumming against your back is pretty darn as close to perfection as it gets.

I never want us to move. I just want to lie here in bed, naked and embraced by the most important person in my life, with the sound and feel of his deep, hot breath against my neck.

Well, maybe it'd be a bit better if I were to turn around and face him.

Yeah. I think I'll do that.

With the utmost care, I turn to my other side without slipping away from his arms' embrace, and snuggle closer to him, carefully resting my head on his chest. He stirs then, and mumbles something incoherent, but he's still asleep. I start to trace the markings across his chest before quickly stopping and internally scolding myself; the last thing I want is for him to get up and leave.

So I spend a long time just lying there, my head on his chest, listening to the sounds of his lungs breathing and his heart beating.

And it's never been so engraved into my mind and soul that I love this man. I love him so much, it seems _ridiculous_  to me. I feel like I want to keep him locked up here, in my bedroom, shielding him from the rest of the world, safe and sound and content.

It takes me a couple of minutes to realise that I've been absent-mindedly kissing his chest. Before I can get the chance to internally scold myself again, I feel his fingers caressing my arm.

"Good morning," he says in a hoarse (and Maker's breath,  _oh so_   _sexy_ ) voice.

I look up at him and smile.

"Morning."

Oh. My voice is just as hoarse as his.

Boy. We must've been  _really_  loud last night.

Poor Bodahn! I wonder if his son, Sandal, has any idea what sex is.

Let's just hope he doesn't.

"Did you sleep well?" he asks me.

"I'm the one who should be asking you that," I smile. "You're in a stranger's bed."

"Oh. My bad," he grins. He touches my chin with his index finger and tilts my face to kiss me.

"Just a second," I mutter after abruptly pulling away. I reach over him to the bedside table and pull open the first drawer. "Ah-ha! I knew I had a tic tac box lying here somewhere," I say with relief. I pop one into my mouth before I place one in his.

"That's a nice and subtle way of letting someone know that their breath stinks," he chuckles.

"Hey, you're not the only one sucking on a tic tac here," I say defensively. He chuckles and leans in for another kiss.

"Better?" he whispers against my lips.

"Much," I smile. "So,  _did_  you sleep well?"

He scoots down further until his face is level with mine. Smiling, he strokes the side of my face with his thumb, his eyes warm and bright.

"Marian, I've never slept better," he whispers, the scent of the orange tic tac filling my nostrils.

Blushing, I smile shyly and trace the markings on his chin with my thumb.

"Neither have I," I reply.

We kiss lazily for quite a while, and I smile when I feel him getting…ahem …' _excited'_  all over again.

"Fenris?"

"Hmm?"

"What were you whispering last night?"

He stares at me, clearly bewildered.

"When?"

My blushing intensifies tenfold.

"When we were making love. You were whispering things into my ear and… well… maybe my mind was in a completely different place, but I could've sworn it sounded foreign."

"Oh," he says simply. "I… have no idea, actually," he says with a light laugh.

"You have no idea what you were whispering? Huh. Guess I wasn't the only one who was completely out of it."

He grins in a very seductive way that I have never seen on his face before and rolls over on top of me.

"Perhaps we should give it another go and see if I whisper those things again, hmm?" he asks in a gravelly voice.

Slightly taken by surprise, I grin back and kiss him, lightly biting his lower lip before I pull back and give him the most seductive look I can come up with.

"Perhaps we should," I purr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm... so how was it? Was it too much? I'm not that experienced in writing love scenes (heck, this is my first time doing it), so feedback on that point would really be appreciated. Oh, and I know this chapter's a bit short, but this way, I can update the story a lot quicker, which is what you all want, right? ;)


	33. Chapter 33

"Marian?"

"Good morning, sleepy head."

I look up from the book I was reading by the window in Fenris' bedroom, smiling at his dishevelled silver bed hair.

"What time is it?" he asks sleepily, sitting up as he groggily rubs his eyes.

"Nine. You can go back to sleep. It's Saturday."

He stretches and yawns, shakes his head 'no' and swings his feet onto the stone floor. He leans down to take his discarded pyjama pants from the floor and lazily slides his legs into them. After another stretch, he slowly makes his way towards me by the window seat.

"Hello, beautiful," he purrs into my ear as he embraces me from behind.

"Hey."

I smile and kiss his forearm before scooting a bit to make room for him on the seat. He sits down behind me and pulls me against him, his chin resting on my right shoulder as he looks at the book on my lap.

"Shartan?" he asks, the proximity of his voice sending a slight tremor through me.

"Yeah. It's really… interesting, to say the least," I reply, closing the book to examine the cover. " _A Slave's Life._  Tragic, yet so incredibly brave."

"It's my favourite book," he murmurs.

"So now you can read Shartan? Someone's been practising!"

"Hmmm," he smiles and kisses my shoulder. "One can never have  _too_  much practise, though. How about those private lessons you promised me way back when?"

The tone of his voice isn't exactly one that would be used when talking about something academic in nature.

"I'm assuming you mean private  _reading_  lessons?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

Another chuckle that's too close to my ear ensues, and another, albeit much more pronounced, tremor shoots through me.

"There's that too," he grins.

I sigh and close my eyes as he softly kisses my neck.

Saturday, the 29th of May. I could swear that there was something going on today, but I can't quite recall what it is...

Wait.

I  _can_  recall what it is.

_Maker's breath!_

"MAKER'S BREATH!"

I sit bolt upright so abruptly, I nearly break Fenris' Grecian nose in the process.

"What? What?" he asks in a very startled tone.

I get up and start pacing around in panic, my mind working frantically.

"It's Varric's birthday today!" I exclaim. "Maker's breath, how could I completely forget  _that_? I didn't even get him a present yet! Oh Maker, oh  _Maker_!"

Fenris gets up and firmly places his hands on my shoulders to stop my frantic pacing.

"Relax," he says soothingly. "You can still get him a present." He pauses and contemplates something for a second. "Wait… what time is the party?"

"At seven!" I moan. "Oh Maker, I am so dead!"

"Shh, don't say that," he says as he rubs my arms to calm me down. "There's still plenty of time. We can go pick something for him right now."

"Yes! Let's do that. Let's do exactly that."

I spin around and start to swiftly make my way to the bedroom door when I feel a pair of strong hands holding me back.

"You're going out shopping in your lingerie?" he asks with amusement.

I look down at my body, gasp loudly, and feel my entire face go red.

"Oh. Umm… No. Of course not."

Smiling to hide my embarrassment, I pick my clothes from one of the wooden benches by the fireplace and hastily put them on. Fenris heads over to his wardrobe and throws on his usual ensemble of a black button up shirt and faded grey jeans (he has over ten different black button ups and five different grey jeans, so it's not like he wears the same clothes constantly; he's not dirty like that).

"All set?" he asks as soon as we're both done.

"Yep, let's go," I say in a rush as I make my way to the door again. I nearly yell at Fenris to hurry up when I see that he hasn't immediately followed me out, but I stop when I see him jogging into the hallway towards me with my keys jingling in his hand.

"Forgot these," he says and hands them to me. "You weren't planning on walking to the shops, were you?"

"Walking? On a beautiful Saturday morning? When the weather is nice and sunny and fresh? Don't be silly, Fenris!"

"I'm afraid you lost me there," he says as we rush down the stairs.

"The streets will be flooded!  _Everyone_  will be out there, soaking up all the vitamin D! No way, we're driving."

"As you say," he says.

I start the drive to the Hightown shopping district, my mind spinning as I try to think about what I could possible get Varric.

"The man has everything!" I groan in the car. "What the heck do I get him?"

"What does he like?" Fenris asks.

"I don't know!" I exclaim. "Everything? Well, the finer things. All things expensive and unique." I pause and shoot Fenris a quick glance. "Wait… you're invited too."

"I am?"

"Yes!  _Shit_! Now we have to get him  _two_  gifts! What on earth do we get him?"

"Marian, calm down!" Fenris chuckles. "It's only a gift. We'll find him something. Don't worry about it."

I drive into the underground parking of Pearl Mall, the best shopping mall in Kirkwall.

"What time is it?" I ask Fenris as I reverse park my car.

"Ten to eleven."

"Okay," I breathe. "We can do this. We have eight hours. We. Can. Do. This."

Fenris chuckles lightly as he undoes his seatbelt.

"Are you always this nervous when buying presents?" he asks.

"Only when I've completely forgotten about them and have to buy them a few hours before the event," I mutter sourly.

We get out of the car and quickly make our way to the sliding glass door underground entrance. I jog up the escalator steps, with Fenris very lightly trudging along at my heels.

"Marian?"

"What?"

"We should separate," he says. "We'll each go and pick out a gift. That way, we'll save much more time."

I quickly consider his proposal.

"Okay," I nod. "Sounds good. Whoever gets a gift first calls the other."

"Okay," he nods back. "See you after the mission, Hawke," he grins.

"Good luck, trooper," I smile before quickly heading to the second floor, which is where all the expensive antique shops are.

I spend nearly a full half hour rushing from one shop to the other, only to feel hopelessly disappointed when nothing even remotely catches my eye. With my pounding heart and frantic pace, I nearly jump out of my skin when my phone rings just as I'm leaving an art display shop.

"Did you find him something?" I ask rapidly.

"Yes, but you've got to come and see it first," Fenris responds, an unmistakable note of excitement in his voice.

"Fenris, I don't have time! I haven't found him anything yet!"

"You won't need to. I think I've found it."

"You've found  _your_ gift, Fenris, not-"

"I can see you. Turn to your right," he says calmly.

I spin on the spot and see him standing in front of a shop I haven't been to yet, a small smile on his lips. I hang up and sprint towards him, his very apparent calmness slightly getting on my nerves.

"What on earth are you going on about?" I ask him angrily.

Still smiling, he silently nods his head in the direction of the store and gestures for me to follow. Feeling incensed yet curious, I reluctantly follow him in, glancing at the time on my phone as I do so.

_There's still time, Hawke. I know you're PMSing right now, but calm the fuck down_.

"Over there," he says, pointing at the wall opposite us.

My eyes slowly follow his finger to see a large, antique and unbelievably beautiful mahogany and gold-plated crossbow hanging on the wall.

"Doesn't he always go on about how he adores crossbows?" Fenris asks.

I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from it.

"It's perfect."

* * *

"Waiter! More champagne here, please!"

"I'm beginning to wish it was your birthday every day, little man!" Isabela grins as she watches the waiter bring the second bottle of champagne in less than an hour.

"That could be easily arranged," Varric winks as he raises his glass and sips.

Here we are, Zevran, Isabela, Merrill, Fenris, Varric and myself, seated around a large, round, candle-lit table at one of the most exclusive Antivan restaurants in Kirkwall.

"I've never been to this restaurant before," Zevran says. "This is the best Antivan Paella I've ever had outside of my beautiful Antiva!"

"Wanna know a secret?" Varric smirks as he leans in across the table.

"What?" Zevran asks.

"I only found out about this place yesterday," Varric grins.

"What? Truly?" Fenris asks with surprise.

"Truly!" Varric laughs.

"And there we were, rushing about like headless chickens just because we didn't get him a gift a week before his birthday," Fenris humorously mutters under his breath to me. I bite my lip and suppress a snicker.

"So, Fenris," Varric says, inhaling deeply from the cigar he's just lit.

"So, Varric," Fenris replies calmly.

"What do you do in that gigantic house all day?" Varric asks.

I glance at Fenris sideways and feel thoroughly surprised when I see a small smile playing on his lips.

"Dance, of course," he says.

Varric's eyebrows shoot up as high as mine do. Zevran, Merrill and Isabela's expressions clearly tell me that they were caught off guard by his response too.

"Really?" he asks incredulously.

"Yeah. I run from room to room, choreographing routines."

_What?_

We all stare at each other, slightly dumbstruck, before Varric starts laughing, looking thoroughly delighted.

"You're actually joking! Alert the Chantry! They need to put this on the calendar!" he chuckles.

The rest of us join in on the laughter, and I feel a glow swelling inside me as I see the smile on Fenris' face.

"And you thought I was always serious," he says.

"Well, clearly, we all thought wrong!" Zevran laughs, raising his glass in Fenris' direction before taking a swig from it.

Fenris turns to look at me, his smile widening when his green eyes meet mine. Underneath the table, he lightly brushes his hands against mine.

"It's a pity Anders couldn't make it," Merrill says, shaking the table in her feeble attempt to cut up her steak.

"Said he wasn't feeling too well," Isabela replies. "And I told you not to order your steak well done, Merrill! That thing's as tough as rubber!"

"I don't want to eat it mooing, Bela," Merrill says indignantly. "Actually, I'm thinking of being a vegetarian. Animals are so cute!"

"And tasty," Zevran adds. "Can't forget that now, can we?"

"Oh, very funny," Merrill pouts.

"Excuse me," I say, pushing my chair away from the table and standing up. "Gotta run to the ladies' room."

"Ooh! Me too!" Isabela says, her knife and fork clattering loudly when she all but flings them onto her plate.

As soon as I push open the bathroom door, Isabela corners me.

"Bela? What the heck? I wanna pee! I'm close to bursting, here!"

She rolls her eyes and backs away.

"Fine. Talk to me while you pee, then."

"Talk to you?" I ask as I enter a cubicle and lock the door. "What about?"

"About Fenris!" she exclaims as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He's actually cracking jokes back there!"

She suddenly gasps, as though a very exciting thought just occurred to her.

"You've been giving it to him, haven't you?" she asks excitedly. "You've totally been giving it to him!"

_Maker's breath, please don't go there, Bela. I'm a prude, remember? The twenty five year old virgin_.

_Well, ex-virgin, but she doesn't need to know that_.

"I  _need_  to know! Tell me!"

"Bela, don't be absurd," I say, quickly flushing the toilet to drown out her indignant (and successfully incoherent) response. I walk out and wash my hands, internally cursing myself when I see the significant blush on my cheeks in the mirror.

"Oh, honey. You don't need to tell me anything; it's written all over your gorgeous face!" she grins delightedly.

I roll my eyes and ignore her, being very careful to avoid eye contact with her as I dry my hands under the air dryer.

"You're  _such_  a prude, kitten," she chuckles as we walk out of the bathroom.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I'm gonna get it out of you sooner or later," she says. "You've been warned!"

Again, I roll my eyes and say nothing. It seems to be the standard response I have reserved just for Isabela.

"There you two are!" Varric exclaims when we take our seats. "We were just about to send out a search party! We're gonna cut the cake!"

A waiter wheels in the cake, which is a large rectangular shape, covered in white vanilla frosting and very intricate golden detailing with  _Happy Birthday, Varric!_  piped across it in golden piping gel, surrounded by thirty three lit golden candles.

We all gather around Varric and start singing 'Happy Birthday' (with Isabela and Merrill sounding so incredibly off-tune).

And guess what?

Fenris can  _sing_.

I mean, he can really, really  _sing_.

I know that 'Happy Birthday' isn't exactly the best song one should use to judge another's voice, but his voice is  _that_  good. Not a single note off-tune, and it's deep and rich.

Is there  _anything_  this man can't do? It's not fair!

Cameras start flashing from all around the table as Varric blows out the candles and cuts the cake.

If you call that 'cutting', that is; he's  _terrible_  at it.

"Oh, move over, little man!" Isabela laughs and takes the knife from Varric and starts to neatly cut the cake into equal rectangular shapes. We spend the good part of the next hour taking loads and loads of pictures, eating cake and drinking more expensive champagne (except for Merrill and I; turns out that Merrill doesn't drink either).

"Time to unwrap the gifts!" Varric says, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

And one by one, the gifts are unwrapped.

Zevran got Varric an extremely expensive set of crystal martini glasses. Bela and Merrill both chipped in and got him a large and antique-looking gold signet ring (Varric loves his gold rings and chains; I can't believe I totally forgot about that when I was wringing out my brain about what to get him!).

"Oh? And what's this? It's huge!" Varric exclaims when he sees his last gift; a large rectangular box wrapped in crimson gift paper and a thick golden ribbon tied around it.

"Must be from our two love birds," Isabela grins knowingly.

"And so it is!" Varric says when he reads the little card that's tied to the gift. "I hope you guys didn't go overboard," he says as he impatiently tears off the wrapping paper from the box. When he lifts up the lid, his brown eyes grow incredibly wide.

"Maker's breath," he whispers, his expression stunned.

"What? What is it? What did they get you?" Isabela and Merrill ask impatiently.

Varric lifts up the mahogany and gold-plated crossbow, apparently speechless.

"Andraste's tits!" Isabela exclaims.

"It's  _beautiful_!" Merrill whispers, her hands jumping up to her mouth.

"Maker!" Zevran says. "How much did that cost you two?"

"Nothing too crazy," I grin. "Fenris here chose it."

"Well, I  _found_  it," Fenris says, an adorable shy smile creeping onto his face. "I didn't exactly  _choose_  it."

"Same diff!" I say.

"You guys…" Varric says in a low voice, unable to tear his eyes away from the crossbow. "This is… this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!" He looks up at us, curiosity mingling with the surprised expression on his face. "Did I tell you about my crossbow fetish?"

"Oh, maybe once or twice," I smile.

"Or twenty or thirty," Fenris says dryly.

Varric beams at us and turns his attention back to the crossbow.

"I… I don't know what to say…" he says, his eyes wide and bright.

"Apart from a nice and simple 'Thank you', you mean?" Zevran smirks.

"Thank you? That's nothing! That isn't enough!" Varric exclaims, turning the crossbow around in his hands. "I mean, that goes without saying!"

"You're welcome, Varric," I smile. "It's the least we could do. You got me Bartrand's Bakery  _and_  got me out of jail, remember?"

"You were innocent, Hawke. It's not like you needed my help," he says.

"Nevertheless, you've been a terrific friend, Varric. This is just our way of saying thank you," I reply. I glance at Fenris and beam when I see him smiling warmly as he watches Varric continue to admire our gift.

"Thanks a lot, you two," Zevran says. "Now you've put all our gifts to shame!"

"My apologies, messere," I smirk.

"Are you going to name it, Varric?" Merrill asks, her face partially illuminated by the golden glow emanating from the bow.

"Of course, Daisy," Varric smiles.

"Anything in mind?" Isabela asks.

"Yeah," he replies. Cradling the crossbow in his arms, he turns to face us all.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you… Bianca."


	34. Chapter 34

"Kitten, what on earth are you doing?"

I quickly pull down my shirt to cover my stomach and turn away from the full length mirror in Isabela's bedroom.

"Nothing. I was just looking at my birthmark. I'm beginning to think it's getting larger as I age."

"Let me see," Isabela offers.

Reluctantly, I lift my shirt back up and allow Isabela to examine the pigmented shape on my stomach.

"It's not a mole, it's just pigmentation, so there's nothing to worry about," she finally concludes.

"Yeah, I know. I'm not worried," I smile.

 _Not about the birthmark, at least_.

"So…" She gets off her stomach and sits up in her very creaky bed, closing the magazine she was reading. "How are things with Fenny, then?"

" _Fenny_?" I repeat incredulously. " _Really_ , Isabela?"

"You know you secretly want to call him that," she grins.

"Oh, you have  _no_ idea," I reply with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

"Stop avoiding the question!" she exclaims impatiently.

"I'm not. Things are fine. Normal. Same old."

"Then why are you flustered and speaking faster than Merrill does when she's nervous?" Isabela asks sceptically.

"I am  _not_!" I reply indignantly.

"Add 'being extremely defensive' to that list," she smirks.

I quickly glance at the time and breathe a sigh of relief.

"It's almost three, Bela. Gotta run to my karate class!"

"Your class won't die if you're a few minutes late!" she says. "Now sit your cute little butt down here and fill me in!"

"Later!" I say as I very quickly dart out of her room. As soon as I'm out, I practically sprint to the front door, not bothering to wait for the elevator and taking the stairs instead, all in a desperate attempt to avoid talking about my sex life.

I mean, it's  _my_  sex life, right? These sorts of things are private! Well, maybe not to Isabela and Zevran, but to the rest of the world, they are!

Even if it  _were_  a suitable topic for conversation, what in the Maker's name can people say? 'Oh, it kinda hurt the first time, and I'm constantly terrified of the condom breaking?'

_Ewww!_

Just the thought of it makes me  _shudder_.

Nope, it's final: my sex life is out of bounds.

Period.

Even though the gym is just a few blocks away from Isabela's place, I take my car and drive there so that I wouldn't have to go back there later and get cornered by her all over again.

And I wasn't lying, by the way; I  _am_  late. Late enough to find nearly all of the students already there, dispersed in groups of twos and threes, the room filled with the sounds of mismatched voices and animated conversations.

"Hawke!"

I see Fenris jogging towards me, his silver curtain of hair bouncing lightly.

"Where were you?" he asks me angrily. "I tried calling you close to a dozen times, but I was constantly being told that your phone is either off or has no signal! I thought something had happened to you! You're never this late!"

"Relax, Fenris, I was at Bela's. Maybe the network coverage is really bad in that area."

"Check your phone," he orders me angrily.

Glaring at the very bossy tone of his voice, I very nearly consider refusing his order and walking away, but I remember that we're in the middle of a crowded class, so I very reluctantly pull out my phone and check it.

"Like I said," I tell him coldly, "Not a single call."

We stand there, less than a foot away from each other, glaring as though daring one another to come up with a retort or argument. Then, I see his features soften and the frigid tension leaving his shoulders.

"I was just worried about you," he says softly. "You're never late. Never. And you always answer your phone."

"Yeah well, try speaking in a friendlier tone next time? I don't respond to bossiness."

He hesitates, opening his mouth and closing it without saying anything.

"I… You're right," he finally says. "I shouldn't have talked to you in that manner. I… apologise."

"Apology accepted," I reply. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a few of the kids watching us curiously. "Shall we get on with it, then?"

I turn around without waiting for a response and gather everyone up for the warm up.

I spend the rest of the class feeling incredibly hostile towards Fenris, but it has absolutely nothing to do with our argument earlier.

As I'm bending over my gym bag after the end of class, I can see him watching me apprehensively from the corner of my eye. Just as he finally starts to take a step towards me, the training room door flings open and a booming voice fills my ears.

"Hawke!" Varric calls out. I look up to see him excitedly jogging towards me, waving a large piece of paper in his left hand.

"Hawke, you have  _got_  to see this!" he says excitedly as soon as he approaches me. "And you too, Fenris! Come over here!" he adds to a very curiously observing Fenris, who hesitantly joins us.

"What's that you've got there, Varric?" I ask, pointing at the paper in his hands. Now that he's close, it's obvious that it's been cut out of a newspaper.

"This, my friend, is the key to your blindingly bright and shiny future!" Varric beams, holding up the paper for Fenris and I to read.

**THE KIRKWALL KARATE CHAMPIONSHIPS**

**JULY 31** **ST** **9:32 DRAGON**

**6PM TO 10PM**

**Calling all karate masters! Think you've got what it takes to be the Champion of Kirkwall? If yes, then go to thechampionofkirkwall.com and register NOW!****

_*Only black belt holders from dan 1 and above are permitted to compete_.

"Varric, I'm not even from Kirkwall," I point out. "I'm Fereldan, remember?"

"And I'm Tevinter," Fenris says.

"And both of you are blind," Varric smiles. He points to the asterisk below the first one, which for some reason, neither Fenris nor I read.

 _**People of all ages and nationalities may apply_.

"Oh. Didn't see that there."

"Well? What do you think? Should I go and register the two of you right now?" Varric asks, his eyes bright with excitement.

Fenris and I look at each other. We nod at one another and turn back to Varric simultaneously.

"Why not?," we both say in unison.

* * *

After a shower and a change, Fenris asks me if I want to come over to his place tonight. I agree, but not necessarily because I want to spend the night with him. There are slightly more pressing matters to attend to.

"Fenris, I need to talk to-"

When he flicks on the light in his bedroom, I notice a new addition facing the bed.

"You got a television set?" I ask with a note of surprise. "I thought you hated watching television."

"But you don't," he smiles from his place on the edge of his bed.

I stare at him blankly, slowly processing what he just said.

"You… you got this for… for  _me_?" I ask with incredulity.

He nods, his smile widening.

I blink rapidly and examine the television set, groaning when I realise how much money he spent on it.

"Fenris, this is the new Samsung LED D8000! Are you _insane_? That costs a fortune!"

As fortunate and very financially well-off as I may be, the same can't exactly be said of Fenris. I make sure that the gym pays him extremely well for his karate stint, but to get me  _this_? With his  _own_  money?

That's  _seriously_  insane.

"I know you love falling asleep while watching the food channel, so I thought you could do with one here," he explains softly. His hair falls over his eyes as he looks down, a small and shy smile forming on his lips. "And I enjoy having you here with me. I want you to be as comfortable as possible."

An incredibly warm rush fills my chest and I can't help but smile.

"I  _am_  comfortable with you, Fenris," I say. "Extremely comfortable. You really didn't need to get me this."

"I wanted to," he smiles, slowly standing up and approaching me. He snakes both arms around my waist and kisses me slowly and gently.

"Fenris, wait- no-"

"Shhh," he says, and covers my lips with his.

I sigh and feel my knees buckle. Without pulling his lips away from mine, he blindly guides me back to his bed. We fall onto the bed, with him lying on top of me, and the kiss deepens. When he moans into my mouth, my limbs go limp, and I feel as though all of the energy has been drained out of me.

He breaks the kiss and quickly takes off his grey t-shirt before he pulls off mine. I pull his face back down and kiss him almost ravenously, wrapping my legs around his hips and pressing him to me. When the urgency in... umm…  _you know where_  starts to nearly drive me insane, I unwrap my legs and lift my hips up to pull down my jeans and underwear, with Fenris quickly following suit.

_Well, so much for wanting to attend to more pressing matters._

I came here to talk to him about something, something really important, and now, here we are, seconds away from making love. I guess some things just can't be put off. Especially when you've got a painfully handsome, mysterious, and not to mention  _naked_  fellow lying on top of your naked body and kissing every scorching inch of it.

When we start to make love, all of my thoughts dissolve into goo, and all I can do is  _feel_ ; feel his sweating, glistening skin slide against mine, feel him inside of me, feel his lips against my neck and his cold breath against my ear as he once again starts to mindlessly whisper foreign words into it.

I think I hear the word 'sum' or 'soom' or something like that, but I'm far too deep in a wave of steaming hot ecstasy to think about what that could mean. I feel myself getting close,  _very_  close, and I cling closer to him and bite my lower lip, my eyes rolling into my head.

"Fenris," I moan, pressing my lips against his shoulder. I'm only vaguely aware of how loud his moans are becoming. Soon, we both become so loud, I'm sure the entire neighbourhood could hear us.

When it's over, we both just lie there, sweating and panting, with Fenris still lying on top of me.

"So much for that post-class shower," I grin. He laughs and rolls over onto his back, his chest moving up and down as he continues to catch his breath.

"Care to join me for another one?" he asks, the back of his fingers caressing my cheek. I smile and nod, allowing him to take my hand and lead me to the bathroom, which is  _huge_  and entirely made of creamy off-white marble.

While I scrub his back, the thing that I wanted to talk to him about suddenly creeps back into my mind. But when I see the absolute serenity and content on his face, I decide to postpone it until later; a couple of hours won't make a difference.

After we towel dry our bodies and hair, we dress up in our pyjamas and head downstairs to the kitchen for dinner. Fenris reheats what he cooked for lunch (lasagne with parmesan cheese and minced beef) and we both sit down on the kitchen counter to eat.

"This is so darn  _good_!" I moan through a mouthful of lasagne.

"Glad you like it," Fenris smiles.

The way this man eats is  _impeccable_. He takes small mouthfuls and chews so slowly and neatly, and he has a habit of dabbing his lips with a napkin after every couple of mouthfuls. If it were anyone else, I would find that slightly annoying, but I'm finding it incredibly hard to be annoyed by  _anything_  Fenris does.

After dinner, I offer to wash up the dishes, which he very reluctantly agrees to after tons and tons of nagging from my part. Then, he drags me back to bed.

"I want you to try out the television," he grins excitedly.

 _So freaking adorable, I could just eat him up_!

As soon as we're in bed, he takes me in his arms and buries his face in my hair as I flip to the food channel.

"The resolution in this thing is  _unreal_ ," I say in awe as I watch Jamie Oliver chop up some onions. I tilt my face up and smile warmly up at Fenris before I kiss him tenderly and stroke the side of his face.

"Thank you," I murmur as I gaze into the warm moss-green swirling in his irises.

"You are most welcome," he murmurs back and kisses my forehead.

What with the incredible warmth and comfort of being under the covers and having Fenris' arms wrapped around me, I start to drift off very soon afterwards. I try to open my eyes and stay awake when I realise that I am yet to have my important talk with him, but the drowsiness is just far too overwhelming and potent to resist. So I give up and allow myself to be dragged into oblivion.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I wake up to go to the bathroom. It takes me nearly five entire minutes to slip out of Fenris' arms and legs without waking him up (the guy's curled up around me like a koala!). When I slip back into bed, I close my eyes and very nearly go back to sleep when Fenris' gravelly voice makes me jump.

"Marian?" he asks.

I roll over to my other side and try to see his face in the dark.

"Yes?" I reply quietly.

"When we first got back from karate… before you saw the television… you told me you needed to talk to me about something."

_Oh. Right._

"What was it?" he asks when I don't say anything.

I just quietly lie there for a moment, watching the moonlight rays through the chink in his velvet curtains.

_Do I tell him, or do I just brush it off?_

_Tell him and laugh it off, Hawke. Tell him you were being silly, that it's no longer important._

"It's not important, Fenris. It's nothing. Forget I said anything."

 _Hawke, I think you were supposed to TELL him first, and_ then _brush it off?_

The bed creaks slightly as he rolls over to his side and brings his eyes level with mine, cradling my face in his warm palms.

"Tell me," he implores. "Anything that concerns you is important to me. I need to know."

I stare at him, barely able to make out his expression in the dark.

_Darn it. Why does he have to be so darn impossible to deny?_

"Fine," I say with resignation. "I'll tell you."


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm publishing this in a bit of a hurry because I'm gonna be in the air for 16 hours straight tomorrow, and I don't wanna keep you guys waiting any longer. So, this chapter hasn't been proofread or edited, but I WILL get around to doing that as soon as I'm home. I promise. So please, PLEASE ignore any spelling/grammatical errors/repetitions as they have all been overlooked for the time being. I trust myself enough to know that there aren't many of those, but it may be inevitable to come across a few. Otherwise, enjoy the chapter!

Okay. Let it rip, Hawke. Just let it rip.

I clear my throat and avert my gaze from his, forming the words as best as I can in my head before I utter them aloud.

"Okay. So… here's the thing," I begin slowly. I take a deep breath and sit up before I continue. "I… I'm late. Was late. I was late."

Fenris doesn't say anything. I reluctantly glance at his face, which I can see better now that my eyes have adjusted to the dark, and all I see is blankness and bewilderment.

"You were late?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

I nod once, carefully watching his expression for any change.

But it doesn't change. If anything, it's become even more blank and bewildered.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," he says, sitting up in the bed.

Andraste's knickers, must I spell it out?

I take another deep breath.

How do I say this, how do I say this…

"We don't really use a condom whenever we make love, do we?" I ask.

An awkward silence ensues after what must seem to him as a very bizarre question.

"Err… no, we don't," he hesitantly says. "Because you told me that the birth control pills are-"

He stops short, his eyes going very wide.

"You're… you're pregnant?" he gasps.

Took you long enough, buddy.

"No!" I exclaim. "No, relax! But I thought I was. Until my…" I stop and quickly ponder something. "You do know what happens to a woman every month, don't you?" I ask, feeling as though I'm talking to a twelve year old Bethany.

He rolls his eyes and raises an ebony brow at me.

"Of course I do, Hawke," he says in a slightly annoyed tone.

"Well, that's what I meant when I said I was late," I explain. "It was a bit overdue- a week overdue, actually- and I started to freak out. I didn't take a pregnancy test or anything because I was too terrified of what the outcome could've been. But when I went to the bathroom just now, my monthly pal announced its much awaited arrival, and I can breathe easy now. And so can you." I say all of this much too quickly.

Fenris merely stares at me in silence, clearly allowing his brain some time to digest my words.

"Oh," he finally says simply. "I… I see." He nods slowly to himself, his eyes not really focusing on anything particular. "Well…" he exhales loudly through his mouth. "That's a relief."

"Yeah," I agree. "It is."

"Is that why you were so angry at me at karate today?" he asks after a brief silence.

"Pretty much."

"So, I guess we're gonna have to stock up on the condoms from now on," he says quietly, the smile in his voice evident.

I look at him, and sure enough, he has his signature half-smile on his face.

"You got that right, mister," I say. "We won't be needing them for the rest of this week, though, so there's no rush."

He blinks, bewilderment creeping back across his face again, before it's quickly replaced by understanding.

"That's right, we can't make love until your 'monthly pal' is gone," he nods. "Forgot about that little detail."

"That doesn't mean we can't have fun in other ways," I purr seductively, sliding my hand across his bare chest and caressing it.

He stares at me, his pupils dilating noticeably.

"Well, it is the middle of the night," he says in a low, intoxicating voice. "And we are wide awake."

"And talking about condoms," I add with a little grin.

He laughs quietly and pushes me to my back as he rolls on top of me, kissing my lips and neck, his light groans vibrating in my ears.

You know how they say that the progesterone secreted during a woman's period really gets her libido kicking?

Well, it's true.

"Marian?"

"Yeah?"

Fenris caresses the length of my waist as we both lie awake in his bed, sending a light shiver down my spine.

"You know," he begins, "sometimes, I find it difficult to believe that you've never been with anyone before me."

I feel all of my muscles go tense.

"What do you mean?" I ask defensively, slightly raising my head off his chest to look up at him quizzically.

He smiles as he looks down at me, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my eyes.

"I mean the neighbours haven't stopped complaining about how loud I get in the dead of night whenever you stay over," he grins.

I feel myself blush furiously and rest my head back on his chest, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

I make him feel good.

I, Marian Malcolm Hawke, make Fenris feel good.

"Am I supposed to take this as a compliment?" I ask coyly as I trace the markings surrounding his left nipple.

"I certainly meant for it to be one," he responds.

"Then thanks," I smile and kiss his chest. "The last thing I ever expected to be told was that I perform well in bed."

"Well, now you know," he purrs.

"And, in case my own vocal exercises weren't enough of an indication, you're really good too. And I mean really good," I say.

His chest vibrates lightly as he chuckles before he slides down until his face is level with mine.

"I felt a bit selfish tonight, though," he says in a raw voice, his eyes smouldering. "With you making me feel the way you did without returning the favour."

"Not your fault," I shrug. "Besides, I wanted to do that, remember?"

I feel a tremor shoot through his body before he presses himself against me and throws his leg over both of mine.

"Oh, I remember," he whispers. "Only too well."

I feel my face grow even hotter, and I smile shyly as he continues to gaze at me with his penetrating eyes.

"Expecting another complaint in the morning, then?" I grin.

He grins back and kisses me lazily for a long time.

"Definitely," he whispers against my lips.

Fenris doesn't have a last name.

I never knew. It's not something that's ever crossed my mind. Isn't that stupid? We've been lovers for nearly an entire year, and I haven't even stopped once to consider the fact that I don't know what Fenris' last name is.

That's because he doesn't even know what his last name is. How could he, when he knows close to nothing about his past before Danarius?

I've never even seen his passport, come to think of it. I'm starting to wonder whether he actually even has one. He's talked about illegally crossing borders in the earlier days of his escape through boats and whatnot, so it wouldn't be completely farfetched to assume that he doesn't have a passport yet. But, I never assumed that it's something he dwells on, which was really stupid of me, actually. I mean, who wouldn't dwell over the fact that they don't even know their real last name? It would certainly bother me.

Which is why I shouldn't have been surprised when Varric called two days ago to ask about something as he was filling out our championships application forms online.

We were fooling around in my bed, Fenris and I. My monthly pal was finally gone and we were fully intending to spend a long and romantic night together in my bedroom when my phone rang.

"Fenris. Wait, just lemme see who it is..."

Seeing as Fenris' lips were practically glued to mine, my words were barely coherent.

"Forget the phone," he growled, pinning my hips down with his.

"Maybe it's Carver," I said. "Just let me check."

He sighed and rolled off of me and onto his back, panting heavily as he stared up at the burgundy canopy above us. Smiling at the slightly annoyed look on his beautiful face, I reached over to the bedside table and picked up my phone.

Varric.

"Hey, V."

"Hey, Hawke. I didn't wake you up or anything, did I?"

"V, it's only nine," I said with an eye roll. "I'm twenty six years old. I think I've got a few more hours until bedtime, pal."

"Good," he said. "Cuz I've got a question about your man's application. I tried calling him, but his phone's off."

My eyes immediately shot towards Fenris.

A nude and God-like Fenris who was watching me very closely with his large, curious, moss-green eyes.

"What about him?" I asked.

"I just need his last name, that's all," Varric replied.

"Varric needs your last name for the championships application, Fenris," I said in a nonchalant, almost mechanical voice.

Because that's the simplest request in the world, right?

Because asking for someone's last name is as ordinary as saying 'Good morning', isn't it?

Because I'm a complete and utter idiot, aren't I?

Yes. Yes I am. Because, when I saw the frozen, steely expression on Fenris' face, I couldn't understand why. I couldn't possibly think of anything about Varric's request that could've angered or upset him so.

I remained in my bewildered state until he finally replied in a quiet and eerily calm voice.

"I don't know my last name."

I stared at him, blinking stupidly at his bizarre response. He sat up straight, anger quickly dominating his expression, his dishevelled hair falling over his eyes.

Eyes filled to the brim with a potent combination of sorrow and anger.

Eyes that couldn't even look at me.

Fuck.

Of course he doesn't know his last name.

FUCK.

"Hawke?" Varric's voice asked into my ear.

"I'm still here."

"Is everything all right over there? You sound like someone died."

You're right.

Someone did die.

And that someone is me.

A part of me just died because it couldn't bear the sheer stupidity that is Marian Malcolm Hawke.

"Varric, can I call you back?"

"Uhh… sure," Varric responded hesitantly. "Let me know if you need anything, mkay?"

I smiled at the sincerity of his concern.

"Thanks, Varric. Will do."

And I dreaded hanging up at that point.

What was I to say?

How on earth was I supposed to apologise and diffuse the tension? 'I'm sorry for being so stupid and forgetting that you know absolutely nothing about your past, so let's make love and make up?'

If only things were that simple.

By the time I hung up and slowly placed my phone back on the bedside table, Fenris was already back in his jeans, sitting on the edge of my unmade bed as he stared at the his wadded-up t-shirt in his hands.

"Fenris?"

I stared at the intricate markings across his back, waiting for him to respond. When he didn't, I started to dress in my pyjamas and timidly crawled across the bed to sit next to him, taking care to keep a little distance between us.

"Hey… Are you okay?" I asked him quietly.

Still staring angrily at the t-shirt in his hands, he responded in a hard and steely voice.

"I'm fine."

And I'm the King of Antiva.

"Wanna talk about it?" I offered.

"No."

"Listen, Fenris-"

He stood up in a flash before I had the chance to finish my sentence. He quickly pulled on his t-shirt and slid his feet into his sneakers.

"I've gotta go," he muttered.

"What?" I looked up at him with surprise, my mouth slightly open. "Fenris, what the heck-"

"Just drop it, Hawke, okay?" he snarled. "I said I'm leaving."

And without waiting for a response from me, he stormed towards the bedroom door and disappeared into the hall.

Still sitting on the edge of my bed, I stared blankly at the dark hallway, with only three words running through my shocked mind:

What. The. Fuck.


	36. Chapter 36

Some people have a gift.

A talent.

The ability to bear a grudge and not let go of it for like,  _ever_.

Fenris happens to be one of those people.

Ever since that phone call with Varric three weeks ago, he's been in a very foul mood. He doesn't leave his mansion, he doesn't call, he doesn't visit,  _nothing_.

And me?

Well, quite frankly, I don't have the time or patience for such drama. I mean, why on earth is he angry at  _me_? What on earth did  _I_  do? Answered Varric's call and relayed a question? Does something as mundane as that deserve such severe silent treatment?

No. No, it doesn't. I've been through enough shit in my life to run after him and play mommy. If he wants to sulk and spend the rest of his days locked up in his dark and gloomy mansion, then so be it. I really couldn't care less. I have a championship to train for.

Which is exactly what I've been doing for the past three weeks: training. And training  _hard_. I want to  _win_  this thing. I'm in it to win it. Nothing less. So, while Fenris has been busy moping in his room, I've been kicking some serious ass at the gym. In fact, that's exactly what I'm doing right at this moment.

"Wow, Marian!" Alistair grins widely. "You've got one heck of a kick!"

"After nearly two decades of training, you'd think it'd be better," I mutter.

"What are you, insane?" Alistair asks in disbelief. "That's the highest and strongest kick I've ever seen! I mean, your freaking leg literally passes your head when you raise it!"

"I'm just flexible," I shrug.

"Oh, stop being so modest!" Alistair exclaims. "You're a master, I'll tell you that. If you don't win this thing, it's gonna be the shock of the century. You mark my words."

"Thanks, Al," I smile appreciatively. "But we don't know what these Par Vollen fighters are like yet. I've heard they're brutal; twice as tall as a normal person and three times as thick."

"Ah, they're just rumours, beautiful," Alistair says reassuringly. "You'll kick all of their asses. You just watch."

A great big bubble of warmth swells up inside my chest when I see the confident yet kind smile on Alistair's handsome, rugged face.

You know, it's times like these when I wonder: what on  _earth_  was I thinking when I decided to break up with him? What? Was I possessed or something?

Yeah. That's it. I  _must've_  been possessed.

I mean, who in their right mind would leave  _Alistair_? A goofy, funny, silly, generous, gentle and loving angel in an incredibly handsome human form?

No one. Therefore, I wasn't in my right mind. Case closed.

"I hope so," I say. I wipe the sweat off my brow and wrap my arms around Alistair, bringing him close to me for a hug.

"Watch it, I'm a sweating pig!" he laughs, but wraps his arms firmly around me all the same.

"So am I," I grin. I close my eyes and live in the moment, enjoying the proximity and warmth of Alistair's strong body.

"How's Eleanor?" I ask after a while.

"Good," Alistair replies softly. "She's not coming today. Working out isn't for her, she says."

"She  _is_  very frail," I remark, unwrapping my arms from around him and taking a step back.

"Whatever," he says with a light shrug. "I'm not gonna push her or anything."

"You never were a pusher," I smile.

"Truer words were never spoken," he smiles back.

His warm, hazel eyes gaze into mine, and I can't help but gaze back. Usually, I'd feel uncomfortable, but with Alistair, I feel anything but. Not even when I notice him taking a slow, hesitant step to close the short distance between us, or when he very slowly brings his lips down to mine, touching them lightly…

I fling my arms around his neck and pull him down closer, pressing his lips against mine. I feel his strong hands grasp my waist almost too eagerly, pressing my body against his as he kisses me sweetly, yet passionately.

We don't break away. Not even when we both realise what we're doing. We just don't. We keep kissing for what seems like ages, oblivious to our surroundings. Anyone could walk into the empty training room and catch us in the act, but we don't care. I feel like I'm nineteen again; nineteen and deeply in love with the tall, blonde boy from the Chantry across the street.

And that's how I want to keep feeling: young and happy and at home with my family, passionately loved by the blonde, handsome boy called Alistair.

Life was good back then. Happy. Simple. Being with Alistair makes it so easy to pretend that I'm still in Lothering. Is that so bad?

Wait, don't answer that.

Because we're not in Ferelden.

We're not nineteen.

We're not young and innocent and unclaimed.

As much as we both may want to be, we're not. And we never will be. Fenris and Eleanor have both made that impossible.

Blushing furiously, I slowly pull away, feeling terrible inside.

"Alistair, I'm sorry," I say weakly, looking down at the floor.

"Don't," he says firmly. I look up at him, my gaze questioning. "Don't apologise," he finishes. "Don't apologise for something I started. Something I  _wanted_."

I stare up at him, feeling at a loss for words.

"I… I should go," I finally say, slowly backing away from him.

"Yeah," he says awkwardly. "Yeah. Okay."

I smile (or try to) before I turn away, grab my gym bag, and head straight to the women's changing room, never looking back once. I take a cold shower, throw on my clothes, towel-dry my hair and speed out of the gym, heading to my car with extreme determination.

_Oh, Maker. What have I done?_

_What. Have. I. Done?_

* * *

"Don't be nervous."

"You'll be great! You'll kick ass, I know you will!"

"You should eat something, Marian."

"Don't be nervous!"

I'm sitting in a small side room at the Viscount's Keep, surrounded by Isabela, Varric, Zevran, Merrill, Carver and Fenris.

"You'll kick his ass just like you kicked the rest of their asses, sis!" Carver says confidently, thumping me on the shoulder.

"You put their sorry asses to shame, you did!" Varric laughs, nudging me in the ribs.

We're in the midst of the championship, and I've already made it to the final. Miraculous, I know. I didn't even have to give it my all! I just beat them down, each and every large, burly competitor from Par Vollen, and all I have to do now is win their native champion, a nearly seven-foot tall man they call the Arishok.

That's all I've gotta do.

Easy, right?

I'll just keep telling myself that.

"You'll win this, Marian, I know you will," Fenris tells me seriously. I look up at him momentarily before bringing my gaze back down to my lap.

Fenris couldn't compete. Only a few days before the competition, he tripped down the staircase in his mansion and sprained his ankle. Needless to say, he was  _very_ bitter about it.

"Cheer up, amora," Zevran purrs. "You look so… unhappy. Such an unflattering expression for such a  _lovely_  face."

"I'm not unhappy, Zev, I'm nervous," I mutter without looking up.

Just then, a sudden, loud knock on the door makes me jump nearly a foot off the wooden bench I'm sitting on.

"Hawke?" a young, blue-eyed boy pokes his head into the room. "It's time," he says when he spots me.

"Could you give us a minute, Seamus?" Varric asks.

"I'm sorry, but the final round needs to start now," Seamus says apologetically.

"It's okay, Varric," I say, feeling the butterflies flooding my stomach as I get up. "Let's just get this over with."

Taking a deep and steady breath, I nod once at the group and, with more determination and confidence than I'm actually feeling, I walk out of the little side room, my shoulders squared and my head held up high.

"You can do this, Marian!" Isabela says from behind me as they all follow me out of the room. "You're already the champion in our eyes!"

Without turning around to look at them, I nod once, mentally preparing myself for the challenge that lies ahead.

"Marian," a quiet, gravelly voice says from behind me. I stop and turn to see Fenris standing very close to me, leaning heavily against his crutches. He reaches towards my face and caresses my cheek with the back of his fingers.

"Good luck," he murmurs, his eyes warm and intense.

"Thanks," I say in an incredibly hoarse voice.

I feel his warm, full lips against mine, kissing me with an urgency that takes me by surprise. I blush when I hear Zevran whistle in the background.

_So much for his no PDA policy_.

Fenris pulls back from me (I smile when I see the faint blush on his cheeks) and cradles my face in his hands, holding my gaze with his smouldering eyes. I nod and slowly move his hands away from me before I turn around and jog into the main hall.

That was the first time we've kissed since the phone call incident. Oh, and since I kissed Alistair. Luckily, I'm too engulfed in a river of dread to feel guilt at the moment. But the guilt will come. Oh, it will. When I look into his eyes next, there will be no nerves or anxiety to keep it at bay.

But let's not think about that, shall we?

As I make my way towards the huge, high-ceilinged, red-carpeted great hall, I feel my heart beating in my throat. The butterflies are on overdrive mode and my mouth is as dry as a desert.

_Okay, Hawke. You can do this. You_ can _do this_.

With shaking hands, I open the huge double doors before me and step into the crowded hall. Suddenly, a deafening roar fills my ears and reverberates in my chest. I look around as I walk into the hall in my karategi and old and weathered black belt, the carpet smooth and soft beneath my bare feet.

"Hawke! Hawke! Hawke!" the crowd chants, clapping and screaming and cheering as I continue to make it to the centre of the hall, where the man they call the Arishok is standing there with his coach, watching me closely as I make my way towards him, as confidently and as calmly as I can.

"Go, Hawke!" Isabela and Merrill shriek in unison from somewhere in the stands.

"You show him, sis!" Carver roars.

Feeling so nervous that I'm about to throw up, I clench my jaw and look up at my opponent.

He  _is_  fucking seven feet tall.  _Maker's breath!_

"Shake hands," Viscount Dumar, who is the honorary judge of the championship, advises us calmly. My heart hammering in my chest, I extend my hand first. I grit my teeth and glare up at the Arishok when he grasps my hand and literally tries to crush it in his own.

"Now, you know the rules," the Viscount says. "First one to surrender wins the duel. No hitting or any sort of contact on the face is allowed. Anyone who hits an opponent in the face is automatically disqualified. Is that clear?"

The Arishok and I both nod grimly.

"Good," the Viscount says. "All right then. Competitors, take your places, please."

After a lingering glare at the Arishok, who returns it with twice as much menace, I spin on my heels and head in the opposite direction to take my place. The Viscount backs away from the centre of the hall and leaves me and the Arishok facing each other, with around ten feet between us.

"Ready? Fight!" the Viscount echoes.

In less than a split second, the huge, seven-foot man is already lunging towards me. The first thing that pops into my frantic mind is 'run', which my body does only too gladly. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I spend the next ten to fifteen minutes of the final: dodging and running around like a headless chicken. Not exactly Champion of Kirkwall material, is it?

Well, I  _did_  manage to sneak in a few kicks and punches whenever I felt brave enough to turn around and actually  _fight_ , and whenever I did, the crowd went  _wild_. So now, I'm about to turn around and give him a good kick in the stomach.

_I'm gonna make you sorry you were-_

WOAH!

_Maker's breath!_

He's lifted me off the ground! The son of a bitch grabbed the front of my karategi and yanked me off the floor!

"Oi!" I hear Varric and Alistair roar over the cheering Par Vollen crowd. "That's not allowed! Disqualify him!"

I struggle, my feet dangling in mid-air, and try to pull his fingers away from the wad of thick karategi cloth he's grabbed.

The Viscount doesn't do anything until the Kirkwall crowd's 'Disqualify!" chant becomes too much.

"Put her down!" he calls out over the roaring crowd. Then, as if I were an annoying fly buzzing around his head, the Arishok drops me to the floor. Muttering and growling obscenities at him, I quickly stand up and straighten my kit, glaring at him murderously as I do so.

"He's out! Hawke's the winner!" Isabela angrily shrieks. The Kirkwall crowd roars in approval.

"Silence!" the Viscount commands. "If I could have a word with the Par Vollen coach, please," he directs at the large man in the sidelines. The coach heavily makes his way towards the Viscount, glaring at me when he passes by me. In hushed voices and anxious glances (the latter coming from the Viscount's part only), they discuss the legality of the Arishok's actions.

"The duel will carry on," the Viscount finally announces, much to the dismay of the Kirkwall crowd. "But there will be no more lifting from this point onwards," he adds harshly, his clear blue eyes directed at the Arishok.

_Fucking bastard Arishok._

"You go, Hawke! Show the gigantic sod what you're made of!" someone from the cheering crowd yells.

_Oh, I'll show him_.

"Ready?" the Viscount asks. "Fight!"

This time, I don't wait for him to make the first move. I run right at him and aim a swiping kick at his feet, knocking him off balance and sending him crashing to the floor. The roar from the crowd is deafening. Next thing I know, I feel an incredible pain in my midriff, and I'm sent flying in the opposite direction.

_Son of a bitch!_

For a bizarre second, I'm absolutely positive that I'm going to throw up, but I gain control of myself and take in deep breaths as I gingerly get back up, wincing and rubbing my stomach. I barely dodge a second attack from him as soon as I'm up. When I look at his eyes, I see pure rage in them, roaring with an indignity and fervour that terrifies me.

But even if I'm terrified, I don't show it. I lock my jaw and calm my mind, focusing on the target before me. Looking him squarely in the eyes so as to not give away the area I intend to hit him in, I aim a strong, firm kick at his stomach, making him roar and double over. He tries to aim a punch at me, but I swiftly dodge it and hop a few feet away from him.

"End it, Hawke!" Fenris roars from the stands. I look up at him and see him on his feet, despite his sprained ankle. "End it now!"

And I immediately know what I have to do.

I turn my attention back to the Arishok just in time to dodge another one of his barbaric lunges. Then, my eyes focused on one particular spot, I dextrously snake my thumbs to the pressure points right beneath his ears and press as hard as I can.

And it only takes a fraction of a second.

The Arishok collapses to the floor instantly. He's still conscious, but he's just lying there, a motionless heap on the red carpet. I took care not to keep my fingers there long enough for him to completely pass out; I could've been disqualified for that. No, what I did was just press my fingers there long enough to incapacitate his body. And by the Maker, it  _worked_.

"Three, two, one, AND THE WINNER IS HAWKE!" the Viscount roars when the Arishok fails to get up. The old man is beside himself with joy, though his enthusiasm pales in comparison to that of the roaring crowd.

My mind goes blank. I literally have no idea what's going on. My numb brain can't process it yet. I'm still in a state of disbelief when the frantic crowd descends on me, when Isabela shrieks in front of me and jumps up and down with Merrill, who is chanting 'Long Live the Champion!' with the rest of the crowd. I'm still numb when Alistair and Carver thump me on the back, and when Varric's million dollar grin appears before my face. Even when Fenris says 'You did it' in a raw voice before he grabs my face and kisses me with all the passion he could muster.

The relentless camera flashes don't really help with my state of extreme shock. It's like an out of body experience, as though I'm some confused third party observer with spots in my eyes.

I allow my friends to push me towards the Viscount, who is waiting for me with a huge smile on his face and a large, silver trophy in his hands.

"Congratulations," he grins at me, handing the trophy to his son, Seamus, to shake my hand. "You've done Kirkwall proud."

I merely nod, having lost all ability to function like a normal human being. The Viscount takes the trophy from Seamus and proudly hands it to me, the cameras flashing wildly from both the Kirkwall press and the fans, all desperate to capture this special moment. I stand there, posing awkwardly with the Viscount and his son, legions of fans screaming my name at the top of their lungs.

"Great People of Kirkwall," the Viscount says into a microphone. "I present to you Marian Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall!"

As if the crowd wasn't already wild enough, they somehow erupt into an even louder chorus of 'Long Live the Champion', making the ground beneath us shake. I see the beaming faces of Fenris, Isabela, Zevran, Merrill, Varric, Alistair, Carver, and even Uncle Gamlen, all as proud as they've ever been.

And suddenly, life doesn't seem so hopeless anymore.

Because I'm the Champion of Kirkwall.

I'm the Champion.

**End of Act II**


	37. Chapter 37

I am officially nameless.

It's true! I can't remember the last time someone referred to me by my name. To everyone other than my close circle of family and friends, I am officially the Champion.

And it  _sucks_.

It's lame! I feel like I'm trapped in some low budget kids' video game.

" _Champion, sign my daughter's karategi!"_  or  _"Champion! What an honour it is to meet you!"_

I just wanna climb to the Chantry's roof and yell out at the top of my lungs: 'In case everyone's forgotten, my name is HAWKE.'

Okay, maybe I'm taking this nameless thing too far, but I really hate being referred to as the Champion. It makes me feel so…  _silly_.

Which is probably why Isabela and Zevran won't stop bugging me about it during our night out at the Hanged Man.

"So,  _Champion_ ," Zevran purrs at Varric's marble table. "How about you and I head back to your gorgeous mansion and see who wins a friendly wrestling match, hmm?"

Smiling, I decide to play along (what? Fenris isn't here yet and I like flirting with Zev!)

"Sounds like an  _excellent_  plan, if you ask me," I reply in what I hope is a seductive purr.

"Oooooh," Isabela says. "The Champion finally wants to come out and…  _play_."

"Hah!" Varric laughs after a long gulp of ale. "Wait till Broody gets here! We'll see if the Champion is still up for it then!"

"It's a good thing he's running late, then," I grin, winking at Zevran. I blush a little when he holds my gaze with his bright, amber eyes.

"Someone's feeling a little flirty," Isabela says with amusement. "Are you sure that's just lemonade you're drinking?"

"I'm beginning to wonder the same thing," I laugh. "Merrill, did Bela slip something into my drink?"

"No!" Merrill exclaims.

"Relax, kitten," Isabela croons. "The Champion's only joking. They tend to do that a lot, you know.  _Champions_ , I mean," she adds with a smirk.

"Where is Fenris, anyway?" Varric asks.

"Still at his place, apparently," I reply after a sip of lemonade.

_I_ really  _need to pee_.

"Be right back," I say, hopping out of my seat. "Gotta run to the bathroom."

"Don't keep us waiting, O Great One," Varric smirks.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I grin as I turn to leave the suite. I cross the hall and hastily walk towards the bathroom. I'm walking so fast that I literally walk right into someone who's just come out of the men's bathroom.

"Ouch! Sorry!" I say, rubbing my forehead as I back away from the man. I freeze when I realise who it is.

" _Anders_?" I gasp.

"Hey, Marian," Anders smiles weakly. "Long time no see."

"Yeah!" I exclaim, blinking rapidly in my surprised state. "Yeah, definitely! How've you been?"

"I've seen better days," he smiles.

"Where've you been, lately? You've literally disappeared off the map!"

"Ah, you know, working at the clinic and what not," he says, scratching his chin. "Nothing too exciting. Well, nothing as exciting as beating the Arishok and being declared the Champion of Kirkwall, at least."

"You too, huh?" I roll my eyes but smile nonetheless. "I just  _really_  need to pee, but you've got to come join us in Varric's suite for drinks! It's been  _ages_  since we've hung out!"

"Yeah… Ages…" he nods, his eyes a little distant.

Something's a little… off. Maybe he's tired? His eyes certainly  _look_  tired. His voice sounds tired too. That free clinic of his is really draining him. Poor guy.

"I'll only be a sec, but you can go ahead and join the others now if you want," I smile with one hand on the bathroom's door knob.

"No, I'll wait for you," he smiles back.

"Kay. Just a sec!" I fling open the door (my bladder is on the verge of  _bursting_ ) and rush into the first free (and clean) cubicle I find. When I'm out, I see Anders leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom with his eyes closed. For a second, I start to think he's actually fallen asleep.

"Anders?" I ask, slowly approaching him. He opens his eyes immediately.

_Maker's breath, he's_ tired.

"All done?" he smiles.

"Yeah," I reply, eyeing him closely. He's got dark circles under his eyes.

"Then, off we go!" he says in a raspy yet cheerful voice. When we enter Varric's suite, I hear quite a few gasps from around the large marble table.

"Anders!" Isabela exclaims, almost knocking her drink off the table in her surprise. "You're alive!"

"You could say that," Anders grins weakly, moving around the table to take the empty seat on Varric's left.

"Good to see you again, Blondie," Varric smiles, thumping Anders on the shoulder.

"And you," Anders smiles back. I just can't get over how  _tired_  and worn out he looks.

"I believe introductions are in order, no?" Zevran says.

"Zev, this is Anders. Anders, this is Zev," Isabela shrugs.

"Hey," Anders smiles, his voice noticeably breaking from fatigue.

"Zevran Arainai," Zevran says formally, leaning across the table and extending his hand towards Anders. "A pleasure to meet you, Anders."

His eyebrows slightly raised, Anders takes Zevran's hand and shakes it.

"Pleasure's all mine," he replies with a hint of uncertainty.

"It seems you are very familiar with the group," Zevran says. "How have we not met before?"

"I've been busy," Anders shrugs.

"Anders is a GP," I explain. "He runs a free clinic in Darktown for Fereldan refugees or anyone who can't afford medical treatment." I smile at Anders affectionately as I say this.

"Really now?" Zevran says, and I can tell from his expression that he's impressed too. "How very noble of you!"

"Thanks," Anders smiles. "Someone's gotta do it, right?"

"You could say that," Zevran laughs. "Although, chances are you're the only human on the face of this earth who is selfless enough to do so, my friend."

"I don't even know how you do it, Anders," Merrill says. I feel a bit surprised to hear her voice. Merrill is more of a listener.  _Definitely_  not a talker.

"People need me," Anders says with another shrug. So  _humble_.

"And how lucky they are to have you!" Zevran grins. Anders smiles weakly in response.

"What would you like to drink, Blondie?" Varric asks after puffing out a cloud of smoke from his second cigar of the night.

"Some gin and tonic, I think," Anders replies. "With a lemon wedge, please."

"Coming right up," Varric says, picking up his Blackberry and calls the bar downstairs. "Corff, send Norah up with a gin and tonic. And throw in a lemon wedge with that."

"Thanks, Varric," Anders says appreciatively.

"Don't mention it, Blondie," Varric smiles. "You look like you could use a drink."

"Or two," Isabela smirks.

"You can say that again," Anders laughs humourlessly.

"I think he wants you to say it again, Isabela," Merrill whispers. I nearly choke on my lemonade when I hear that.

"Kitten!" Isabela laughs freely. "He didn't mean that  _literally_. People say that when you say something that they completely agree with."

"Oh," Merrill blushes furiously. "Woops!"

"You'll learn one day, kitten," Isabela smiles warmly. "And stop laughing, Zevran!" she snaps.

"My apologies," Zevran grins at Merrill, whose blushing intensifies tenfold.

_I think someone's got a little crush on Zevran_.

"So, Anders," I say, leaning my elbows on the table. "What else have-"

Just then, my phone starts ringing in my pocket. I pull it out and look at the caller I.D.

**Fenris calling**.

"Sorry guys, I've gotta take this." I quickly get up and leave the suite, shutting the door behind me as I do so. "Hello?"

"Marian," Fenris' voice floats into my left ear, and I feel a shiver run through me.

_How does he still have this effect over me?_ **How** _?_

"Hey, Fenris. Something wrong? Want me to pick you up?"

"No, no…" he says quietly. Judging from the complete silence in the background, he's most probably still home. "I'm not sure I want to go out tonight. Would it be too much to ask you to come over instead?"

My heart skips a beat.

"No!" I reply a bit too enthusiastically. "Of course not! When would you like me to drop by?"

"Now, if that's possible," he says, a smile evident in his calm voice. "And I hope you don't literally mean 'drop by'," he adds.

_He wants me stay over_.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes max," I grin.

"Can't wait."

I hang up and just stand there, grinning at my phone like a lunatic. When I snap back to reality, I turn back towards Varric's suite and open the door, poking my head inside.

"I've gotta run, guys," I say in what I hope is a genuinely apologetic voice.

"But what about our game of Diamondback?" Varric asks disappointedly.

"Sorry, boss," I say. "But I've really gotta run. I'll make it up to you, I promise. And it was great to finally see you again, Anders! I'll see you all soon. Night!"

"Night, Champion!" Isabela and Zevran call out.

"Good night, Hawke!" Merrill squeaks.

I give them a small wave and hurry down the stairs and through the heavily crowded main bar. Once in my car, I sing along to 'Little L' by Jamiroquai on the way, my spirits at an all-time high.

The things love does to a person. It's ridiculous when you think about it.

It takes me less than fifteen minutes to reach Fenris' mansion. I park right under a street lamp and head to his main door. Before I reach it, I hear my phone's message notification. I pull it out and scan the illuminated screen.

**Message from Fenris:**

**It's open.**

I feel my heart begin to accelerate. I reach towards the door knob and twist. Sure enough, the door's unlocked. I step into the dimly lit entrance hall, the sound of soft piano music filling my ears. I lock the door behind me and follow the sound of the music. It's coming from upstairs.

_The piano_.

Butterflies swirling in my stomach, I start to climb the staircase with a dry throat and a racing heart. When I reach the first floor landing, I see something that stops me dead in my tracks.

Rose petals.

Hundreds of them.

Blood red rose petals are strewn across the floor, along with burning candles, forming a path away from the room right opposite the stairs, the room that I automatically head straight into, the room from which soft music is drifting into my ears at this very moment.

I'm really tempted to ignore the illuminated rose path and walk into his bedroom, where I know I'll find him seated at the piano and playing the special piece he composed just for me:  _Hawke's Sonata_. But the rose petals and candles form such a precise and clear path to a room that I've never been in before, and he obviously _wants_  me to follow the path, so with just a hint of reluctance, I move past his bedroom door and follow the path, my curiosity growing with each hesitant step.

The room's door is ajar. I lightly push it open, revealing a large, dimly lit bedroom.

_The master bedroom_.

After a quick appraisal of the room, I look down and see that the rose petals and candles don't stop there; they continue to lead further into the room's left, where another door is standing ajar. I can tell from the space between the door and the floor that this room is dimly lit too, though it's a bit brighter than the bedroom. I push open the door and gasp.

The path leads to a huge bathroom, made entirely of creamy marble. And when I say huge, I mean  _huge_. There's a chandelier nearly as grand as the one hanging in the master bedroom dangling from the centre of the high ceiling, filled with illuminated candles. The rose path ends right at the foot of a deep and spacious bathtub made of marble and intricately gilded gold. It's filled with steaming hot water, surrounded by candles, the surface of the water strewn with even more rose petals.

I jump when I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist from behind.

"Fenris!" I gasp. "You scared me!"

He presses his lips against the side of my neck, and I can feel that he's smiling. I turn around to face him, and he rests his forehead against mine, his eyes gazing into mine with intense warmth and sincerity.

"I missed you," he whispers before gently kissing my lips. "So much."

Ever since that little phone incident with Varric, Fenris and I sort of drifted apart. Even after I won the championship, our relationship wasn't quite the same. In fact, we haven't been intimate since the phone call a month and a half ago.

"I missed you too," I say, gently running my fingers through his hair.

He closes his eyes and kisses me again, slowly and gently at first, before picking up the pace and urgency of the kiss with each passing second. He lifts up my shirt, barely moving his lips away from mine. I feel his nimble fingers snake back to the back of my bra, and I giggle when I feel him fumble there for a while.

"The clasp is in the front," I smile, guiding his fingers to the clasp between my breasts. He smiles back, and I'm almost certain he's blushing (it's hard to tell in the dim candlelight).

He quickly undoes the clasp and pulls my bra off. In a flash, his own shirt is off and strewn on the marble floor alongside mine. He then leans into my chest and starts to very lightly kiss my breasts, the hollow between them, and my midriff, before he pauses at my waist and begins to undo the button of my jeans. He pulls them down slowly, gently kissing my thighs as he does so. I tremble and bite my lower lip to suppress a moan. Looking down at him, it's hard to believe that this is real. That  _he's_ real.

I kick my jeans off and pull him up, kissing him hungrily as soon as he's standing up straight. I blindly reach down to the waistband of his track pants and pull them down. My thigh brushes him and I blush when I feel how… ahem,  _excited_  he is.

"The initial plan was to make love  _after_  our bath," he says in a husky voice. I look up to see him half-smiling.

"We could still do that," I smile back, brushing the hair away from his eyes.

He laughs lightly as he tenderly gazes into my eyes.

"You'll be the death of me," he whispers. The seriousness of his tone catches me by surprise.

"What do you-"

He silences me with his lips before I can finish my question. I feel his fingers fidgeting with the waistband of my underwear as he attempts to pull it off. I reach down and help him, feeling extremely impatient. He takes his briefs off in a flash before he gently pulls me down to the floor, pulling me on top of him. He groans when I straddle him, reaching up to cradle my face with his right hand. For a few seconds, we both stop and just stare at each other.

His markings look so strange in the candlelight. It's almost as though they're  _glowing_.

I lean down and kiss him slowly, causing him to groan longingly into my mouth. Very shortly after that, we're both making love on the cold marble floor, the sound of our shallow and quick breathing echoing off the walls, the two of us oblivious to anything but each other.

"I think I could do with a bath right about now," I breathlessly say around ten minutes later as I'm lying on top of his panting body. I feel his chest vibrate as he laughs lightly.

"So could I," he replies hoarsely.

When I get into the bath, I see two empty glasses balanced on one edge, gleaming in the flickering candlelight.

"I got you some lemonade and some cranberry," Fenris says when he sees me glancing at the glasses. "Take your pick."

I bite my lower lip as a smile creeps across my face.

"I think I'll try something different tonight," I smile. "Something  _new_."

"Oh?" he says with raised eyebrows.

"Mmmhmm," I nod, my smile getting wider.

"And what may that be?" he asks in a low purr as he slides closer to me and takes me in his arms.

"Well, you've tried all of my favourite drinks," I say. "Now, I think it's time I tried yours."

He stares at me, his expression one of disbelief.

"Are you- You're  _serious_?" he stammers.

"And why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, it's just that… you never drink alcohol," he says. " _Never_."

"And that's not going to change," I say. "I just want to try it, Fenris.  _Try_  it. Let's not get too excited here," I grin.

He returns the grin before he reaches across the bath, uncorks the bottle of Aggregio and pours a little into each glass. An amused smile still playing on his precious face, he takes a glass in each hand and hands me mine, his eyes studying my expression.

_Probably still thinks I'm joking_.

I meet his gaze and hold it, as though challenging him. I slowly raise the glass to my lips and instantly stop breathing to avoid taking in the strong, almost putrid smell.

Then, I take a sip.

I instantly hear laughter echoing throughout the large bathroom, and my immediate response is to gag.

"Your face!" Fenris laughs heartily as he takes my glass from my hand. "It's priceless!"

I think he's referring to the fact that, almost as soon as the red liquid touched my tongue, my face scrunched up like a raisin. It's  _that_  disgusting.

"This is  _awful_!" I gasp. "How do you  _drink_  that stuff?"

"It's an acquired taste," he says, chuckling as he quickly jumps out of the tub to rinse my glass. I'm still gagging when he slips back into the hot water.

"Lemonade or cranberry?" he asks politely.

"Cranberry," I gasp. "Quick!"

I snatch the glass from his hands as soon as he's done pouring the drink, completely ignoring his light chuckles as he watches me gulp down the juice.

"So, I'm guessing you won't be making the switch to alcoholic beverages any time soon," he grins.

"Not if it was the last freaking beverage on the planet!" I exclaim.

Still chuckling, he takes my empty glass from my hand and places it alongside his before he takes me in his arms again. We sit silently for a while, and I catch myself smiling as I listen to the slightly fast-paced beat of his heart.

And at this very moment, I really want to say it.

And I mean  _it_.

How I feel about him.

The 'L' word.

He must know. I'm sure he knows, but it's just not the same as actually  _hearing_  it. Maker knows how much I want  _him_  to say it. I've dreamed about it often, but something tells me it'll be a while before I hear it from his lips.

But I really want to.

_Go on, Hawke_.

_Say it_.

_Tell him how you feel_.

_You can do this_.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

My throat feels dry.

 _Very_  dry.

It's so quiet here. The sound of water dripping from the tap is magnified in my prickling ears, partially drowned out by the sound of Fenris' beating heart and the sound of my periodic gulping.

His face is partially buried in my hair, his lips kissing me lightly on my head, increasing my already unbearable state of nervousness.

 _I wish he'd stop doing that_.

I move slightly, causing the steaming bath water to slosh about in the marble tub.

"Fenris?" I ask in a small voice.

_Man up, Hawke!_

"Hmm?"

_I…_

_I…_

"I want to thank you."

_What?_

"What for?" he asks softly.

"For this," I gesture at our surroundings. "This pleasant surprise. I really appreciate it."

He tilts my face up and strokes my chin with his thumb, smiling warmly down at me.

"You're most welcome," he whispers.

 _Do it_.

"Fenris?"

"Yes?"

I stare up at him, feeling as though my heart is about to jump up my throat.

"I…" I gulp, making a conscious decision to breathe deeply and slowly to calm myself down. "I… Fenris, I-"

Before I could let the words out, he kisses me, deeply and hungrily, grasping at my body and practically pulling me over him, his sighs and light groans echoing and bouncing off the bathroom walls.

He cradles me and stands up slowly as we continue to kiss, lifting me up with him. He carefully steps out of the tub and hurries out of the bathroom towards his room, gently placing me on his bed and climbing on top of me, the two of us dripping wet.

 _Thank the Maker it's warm outside_.

He kisses my lips, my neck, my breasts, my stomach. He kisses me in other places too, more sensitive places, places where I've never been kissed before…

"Fenris," I gasp. I feel as though I'm about to scream with pleasure. " _Fenris!_ "

He glides back up to my face, his eyes level with mine.

"Shh," he whispers, kissing me lightly on my lips. "Don't say a word."

He starts to make love to me, breathlessly whispering my name and other incoherent words into my ear.

" _Don't say it…_ "

My eyelids fly open, and for just a second, I'm able to think rationally.

_He knows._

He knows, and for some reason, he doesn't want to hear it.

We fall asleep soon after that, and my subconscious wanders off to something that makes me feel so uneasy, I wake up.

 _Alistair's kiss_.

It's still very much on my mind, the guilt feeling heavier with each passing day.

I roll over and accidentally wake him up (he is such a light sleeper). He curls his leg over my hips and kisses me sleepily before we start making love again.

We made a lot of love for one night.  _A lot_.

And although the intimacy makes me incredibly happy, it also tugs at the edges of my heart and tinges me with guilt.

Because, no matter how much I love Fenris, I broke something between us that day with Alistair. Something sacred.

And you know what makes it all worse?

I  _wanted_  Alistair to kiss me. I  _wanted_  to feel his strong arms around me. I  _wanted_  it.

Fuck, I  _wanted_  it.

* * *

"So, are you going to tell us where you ran off to on Saturday night?" Isabela asks me in her kitchen, where she, Merrill and I are seated around her round wooden table, eating Paella for lunch.

I feel myself blush, but I continue to calmly chew my food. I don't answer until I swallow and take a sip of coke.

"Fenris needed my help with something," I reply simply.

"Oh?" Isabela's eyes light up when she hears Fenris' name. "He needed help with  _something_ , did he? Help with…  _releasing_  something, maybe?"

I roll my eyes and look at Isabela straight in the eyes. What the heck am I embarrassed about anyway? He's my  _lover_  for Andraste's sake!

"We made love all night long, if that's what you mean," I reply coolly.

"Ooooooh," Isabela grins. "Did you hear that, Merrill? The two lovebirds were at it  _all night long_. I'm getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it! How many times? Did you count?"

"Four," I say in a matter-of-fact tone.

" _Four?_ " Isabela gasps gleefully as Merrill giggles behind her hands like a four year old. "Andraste's tits, looks like the two of you are becoming tough competition for Zev and I!"

I let out a little chuckle before I get back to the Paella, which is absolutely  _delicious_ , by the way.

Oh. I should probably tell Bela that, seeing as she cooked it.

"This Paella is  _delicious_ , Bela!" I say through a mouthful of food. "Where on earth did you learn to cook this well?"

"It's what happens when you don't have a mother to cook for you, kitten," Isabela smiles.

Isabela's mother died when she was only a child, by the way. I don't know if I've mentioned that before. She had a difficult life growing up, but I guess she wouldn't be who she is today without having gone through that experience.

"Someone was pretty bummed that you left, though," Isabela says before she pops a spoonful of rice into her mouth.

"Hmm? Who? Don't tell me Zevran."

"Anders," Isabela replies.

"He looked  _so_  disappointed, poor guy," Merrill says, her tone full of genuine sorrow. "Like a sad little kitten abandoned in the rain."

"Err…"

I have absolutely no idea what to say.  _Absolutely_  no idea.

"Poor guy's been through a lot," Isabela murmurs, her amber eyes gazing into her coke bottle.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Haven't you heard?" Isabela asks in a surprised tone.

"Heard what?" I ask, my bewilderment getting stronger with each passing second.

She looks at Merrill and the two of them exchange an uneasy look.

"Anders was in jail for the past four months," Isabela says in a low voice, as though worried she might be overheard. "He only just got out."

"Maker's breath!" I gasp, nearly knocking my coke bottle off the table when my hands automatically jump up to cover my mouth. "Why? What did he do?"

"Apparently, he nearly beat a girl to death," Isabela replies. "Just some random girl in Darktown. Ella or something. He had one of his bipolar episodes and just completely lost it when she asked him for directions to that creepy med school in the Gallows."

"Maker's breath," I say again, shaking my head in disbelief. "I can't… I can't  _believe_  it…"

"Neither could we," Isabela says sadly, stroking Merrill's hair away from her eyes. Merrill's head is downcast, her large green eyes filled with sadness.

"That's why he disappeared for all this time," Merrill says in a small, sad voice. "He was so disappointed about missing your championship, Hawke."

Right. He wasn't there. I was too nervous to notice that on the day itself.

"Is he back in Darktown now?" I ask. "Does he still run his free clinic?"

Merrill and Isabela both nod.

"I should go visit him," I say.

"You should," Isabela agrees. "Merrill's right; he was really bummed when you left. I bet he wouldn't have joined us if it weren't for you."

Fuck. I feel so  _terrible_.

"What time is it now?" I ask, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

"Four," Merrill replies quickly.

"Think it's a good time for me to go and visit?" I ask them both.

"Totally," Isabela says. "I bet you'd make his day, in fact."

"Kay." I push my chair back and get up, grabbing my car keys from the table. "Thank you so much for lunch, Bela. It was delicious," I smile.

"Wait, let me pack some for you to take to Anders," Isabela says, hurriedly jumping out of her chair and heading towards one of her bright red kitchen cupboards. I patiently wait as she packs a generous amount of Paella into a foil container, covers it, places it in a bag, and hands it to me.

"You're an angel, d'you know that, Bells?" I smile warmly.

"I know," she grins.

"Guess I'll see you guys later," I say as I start to make my way out of the kitchen. "Take care, you two!"

"Catch you soon, kitten," Isabela says.

"Bye, Hawke!" Merrill squeaks.

After one last wave, I hastily leave Isabela's apartment and head down to my car. It takes me less than five minutes to get to Darktown, but more than ten to find a spot safe enough to park my car in. Finally, I find one quite a distance away from Anders' clinic. Taking the bag of food in my hand, I make my way to the clinic, my heart pounding nervously in my chest for a reason unbeknownst to me.  
  
 _It's only Anders, Hawke. What's the big deal?_

When I arrive outside the clinic, I see that one door is closed, and the other is standing slightly ajar. I decide to knock before entering.

"Anders?" I call out. "It's Marian. Are you in there?"

When I hear no response, I take a peek inside. I spot him at the far end of the clinic, kneeling in front of something I can't see. I step into the clinic and hesitantly walk towards him.

"Trash…  _trash_ … keep… trash…  _trash_ … Won't be needing  _that_  anymore," I hear him mumbling angrily to himself as he rummages around what I now see is an old and battered suitcase.

"Anders."

He jumps and instantly wheels around to face me.

"Marian!" he says, surprise and joy spreading over his tired face. He quickly straightens up and takes a couple of steps closer to me. "I didn't expect to see you here! Are you all right? Did you catch something?"

"Err, no, I'm fine," I smile awkwardly. "I just came to see you. And to give you this." I extend the bag of food towards him. "Some lunch Bela cooked today. Paella. It's absolutely  _divine_."

"Thanks!" he says enthusiastically, taking the bag from my hand.

I nod, looking around his clinic. There are a few sleeping patients, but otherwise, we're alone.

"I like what you've done with the place," I remark. 

"Thanks," he replies softly. I blush when I realise he's staring at me. He suddenly shakes his head, as though rousing himself from a reverie. "Here, have a seat," he says, gesturing towards a couple of chairs to the right. I smile and sit down on one of them.

"So," he says as he pulls a chair and places it opposite mine. "To what do I owe this honour?"

' _I was just curious about your stint at prison_.'

"I just wanted to drop by and say hi," I reply. "See how you're doing, what's new…"

His smile widens as he gazes at my face.

"I'm great, now that you're here," he says, making my entire face go warm. "How about you? I hope everything was all right last Saturday night. You took off so suddenly."

"Yeah, it was fine. A friend of mine needed help with something, that's all."

There's no way I'm telling  _him_  the truth. He's no Isabela.

"And how are things with Fenris?" he asks. I notice that his smile no longer reaches his tired eyes.

"Umm… good," I reply, feeling increasingly awkward. "Fine."

"That's good," he murmurs, his brown eyes flitting to my lips.

"Are you going somewhere?" I ask, turning around to look at the suitcase.

His smile instantly disappears.

"I was thinking about leaving Kirkwall for a while," he replies after a moment of silence. "Go someplace else for a change."

"Oh?" I'm surprised at how disappointed I feel. "Where to?"

"Haven't made my mind up yet," he says, his eyes fixed on his suitcase. "I was thinking Antiva. It's not so religious there, so I'll be hearing less about Chantry crap and whatnot."

"What about your clinic?" I ask.

"I'll have to close it down for a while, I guess," he shrugs.

"But, what about all the refugees? They need you, don't they?"

 _Oh, for Andraste's sake, Hawke. Could you sound any_ more  _desperate?_

Anders' eyes flit away from the suitcase and focus on mine, curiosity evident within them.

"They do, but not as much as they needed me before," he replies slowly. "Most of them have found jobs and earn a living now. Unlike me," he adds sourly.

"What about that guitar teaching job you do on the side?"

"It helps, but it's not a proper job. Especially when you consider the fact that I have a medical degree under my belt."

"Hmm," I nod. "True that." I lean forwards in my chair, bringing my face closer to him. "Listen… if you need any money at all, you can always come to me. I'd be more than willing to help you out. I can even offer you a place to stay if you need one."

He blinks quickly, clearly taken by surprise at my offer.

"Thank you," he says, his expression genuinely surprised. "Really, you have no idea how much that means to me… coming from _you_ , I mean. I mean I…" He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. "But I can't. I have to leave. Soon."

"But why? You've worked so hard to set this clinic up, and you have friends here, friends who can help."

He watches me quietly for a while, clearly contemplating something hard and slow.

"Marian," he finally says. "Do you know where I've been for the past four months?"

I'm going to lie. I want to hear it from his own lips. It's the only way I can actually  _believe_  it.

"No," I say, slowly shaking my head. "Where?"

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes momentarily before he opens them and locks them on mine again.

"In prison," he replies sternly. "I was jailed for assaulting a young girl, right here in Darktown. Ella was her name. She asked me for directions to that wretched med school in the Gallows and I…" He shakes his head. "I lost it," he continues. "I totally lost it. I just went berserk and attacked her. Maker knows what I would've done if I wasn't pulled off of her by passers-by…."

He squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in his hands, clearly attempting to block out a bad memory or thought.

"I'm a monster," he whispers, his face still covered behind his large hands.

I just sit there, frozen.

"This fucking bipolar shit," he says, uncovering his face and staring at his sneakers. "I can't contain it any longer. The meds aren't helping anymore. It's like my body's becoming resistant to them… I don't know what the fuck am I supposed to do. All I know is that I will not put myself in that position again. I can't."

"You didn't know who the girl was," I say soothingly. "It was an accident."

"Exactly," he says in a terrified voice. "One that happened because I am dangerous. Unstable… How could I stay here amongst innocent people when I may lose all basic control over myself at any moment? How can I even trust myself to heal anymore? What if I turn on a patient? Will I resist? Or will I become lost to my own fury?"

"You can get help, Anders," I say. "I'll pay for it. Whatever it takes, whatever it costs, I'll help you. I promise. And you don't have to pay me back a single cent. Please, just let me help you," I implore him.

He slowly raises his eyes and meets my gaze. My heart shatters as soon as we make eye contact; I've never seen someone look so  _hopeless_. So  _lost_. So  _afraid_.

He tentatively raises his trembling hand and places it on mine. His touch is as warm as his kind eyes and his smile, which is nowhere to be seen on his face now.

"Thank you, Marian," he whispers, his voice heavy with emotion.

"I'll do whatever it takes," I whisper back. "I promise."

He nods, his lower lip trembling.

Then, I do something I've wanted to do for a long time.

I wrap my arms around him and pull him in for a hug. And as soon as I embrace him, he breaks down and starts to sob into my shoulder. My heart hurts so much, I'm positive it's breaking.  
  
Right there at that very moment, I make a vow to myself:

I'll help him. I'll do whatever it takes to cure him.

Whatever it takes.


	39. Chapter 39

My phone vibrates in my pocket on my way home from Anders' clinic. I pull up by the side of the road (don't want a fine now, do we?) and check the caller I.D.

"Hey!"

"Hawke, where are you?" Fenris asks in a surprisingly angry tone.

"Ummm… in my car. Driving home. Why? What's up?"

"Come over." It's an order, not a request.

"Umm… okay," I raise my eyebrows. "Fenris, is something wrong?"

"No. Just come over," he snaps.

_Huh._

"Kay. I'll be there in five."

"I'm waiting." And he hangs up.

I stay there, feeling utterly bewildered as I slowly put down my phone and pull out of the side of the road.

 _What in Thedas have I done_ this _time?_

I park right outside his (borrowed) mansion and head to the front door, feeling lost and anxious at the same time.

You just never know with Fenris. You really never do. One minute he's all gentle and romantic, the next, he's in a fury. He really confuses me sometimes.

I ring the doorbell and wait for him to open the door. When he flings open the door, I very nearly forget my anxiety when I see how incredibly  _sexy_ he looks.

For starters, he's in a white wife-beater. A  _wife-beater_ , people. And a fitted one at that. Although I've seen him naked plenty of times, I've never seen him wear a sleeveless shirt. Every muscle, every beautiful detail, is accentuated and fully on display. And, white really goes extremely well with his tanned skin.  _Extremely_  well. He's also wearing grey sweatpants, which, along with his sweaty forehead, tells me that he must've been working out.

"Marian?"

_Oh, shit! Was I openly staring at him all this time?_

_Maker, I am_ such _a creep_.

"Oh! Ummm… Hey! Were you at the gym?" I ask, pretending to be all innocent.

"No. Come in," he says, his expression mildly confused as he steps aside to let me in. I wait for him as he locks the door shut behind us.

"Come upstairs," he mutters and passes by me without even  _glancing_  at me.

 _Shit. I'm in big trouble. I just know it_.

I quietly follow him up to his bedroom, which is as tidy as ever. The fireplace is cracking merrily and an uncorked bottle of wine is on the wooden table to the left of the room.

As soon as I enter, however, he wheels around and glares at me, his jaw stiff.

"Where on earth have you been?" he demands of me. He's close enough for me to smell wine on his breath.

"At Bela's having lunch," I respond innocently, and I say innocently because that's only  _partially_  true.

I'm a bad person.

"And where the fuck was your phone all this time?" he asks, his tone getting louder and less patient.

"With me," I reply with genuine confusion. "Why?"

He glares at me silently for a couple of seconds, his lips now a thin, angry line.

"Check your phone," he orders me. "Go on, check it!"

I stare at him, and I can literally feel the confusion on my face as I pull my phone out of my pocket. I slide my index finger across the screen and unlock it.

Fuck.

 _19 missed calls_.

I stare at the screen in shock.

19 missed calls, each and every one of them from Fenris. They were all made between 4:45 pm and 7 pm.

Basically the period that I spent in Anders' clinic.

_Fuck, did I really spend that long consoling him?_

_Damn_.

"I..." I look up at Fenris, his face partially illuminated by the glow emanating from my phone's screen. "I had no idea… it was on silent and I was with the girls and I must've not felt it vibrate."

"Just tell me this," he says, his voice eerily calm. "Why do you have a phone? Why bother if you're not going to fucking use it!" He suddenly raises his voice towards the end, which makes me jump.

"Fenris, chill! I told you it was on silent and I was busy with the girls-"

"I don't fucking CARE!" he bellows. I stare at him. I've never seen him so  _angry_. "Do you have any fucking idea how  _worried_  I was? I thought something happened to you! I tried calling your uncle and your home, but no one answered! No one was there when I went to your place! I was going fucking nuts!"

His chest is heaving now, his eyes glaring at me furiously.

"And you're lying to me on top of that," he says.

_What?_

"You left Isabela's at four," he states confidently. "I know that because she told me. I called her when no one else would answer. Got her number from Varric. Where were you?"

I stare at him, utterly speechless.

"Where were you, Hawke?" he asks loudly.

"I... I was..."

His furious expression suddenly turns into one of disbelief.

"You... There's someone else, isn't there?" he asks in a shaky voice.

"No! What, are you  _mad_ , Fenris? Of course there isn't anyone! How dare you!"

"Then why won't you tell me where you were?" he yells.

"Because you're not my guardian!" I say defiantly. "I'm not a child, Fenris. I go where I want, when I want."

"I'm not disputing that," he says. "I just have peace of mind when I know where you are. When I know you're  _safe_."

I open my mouth and close it without saying anything.

Do I tell him?

What am I afraid of? I can meet anyone I want to.

"Isabela didn't tell you?" I ask him.

He shakes his head slowly.

I gulp and slightly jut my chin out.

"I was at Anders' clinic," I say quietly.

"From four to seven?" he asks.

I nod my head, gulping audibly.

He nods too, his furious eyes looking away from me.

"Fenris," I say softly, reaching my hand out to touch his face.

"Don't," he snaps, stepping away from my hand. "Just don't, Hawke."

My eyes immediately begin to sting. I blink rapidly, feeling incredibly hurt.

"I… I need to be alone now," he says, his hair falling over his eyes as he looks down.

I blink back tears ( _how pathetic am I?_ ) and nod silently, backing away towards the door.

"Okay," I whisper. He runs a hand through his hair and turns around to face the fireplace. I stop at the doorway and stare at his intricately marked back, resisting the urge to run back to him, turn him around, and kiss him.

I almost do it.

Almost.

But he wants to be left alone.

So I leave him alone.

* * *

All of the hurt is almost completely replaced by anger by midnight. I spent nearly four hours in bed, tossing and turning, replaying what had happened in his bedroom. I cried a bit as I recalled how he yelled at me, how  _angry_  he was at me.

No one's been that angry at me. Well, there was that one time when I was thirteen. I was at my neighbour's place and it was past midnight and I still hadn't come home, so Mother, being the dramatic mother that she was, automatically assumed that I was kidnapped, raped, murdered and thrown in a dark alleyway to rot.

She didn't even think of crossing the road and checking with the neighbours first. She didn't have their number to call them and I didn't have a mobile phone back then, but she still could've come knocking. Which she did, but only after she started crying hysterically and tearing her hair out.

It's 1 am and I'm sitting on the steps of my porch in my pyjamas. The cool September air sweeps my hair away from my face as I gaze into the bottle of Vanilla Diet Coke in my hands.

I'm angry. I'm angry at myself. I'm angry at  _him_. I'm just…

I'm just angry, okay?

It was stupid of me not to feel my phone vibrating 19 freaking times in my pocket. It was stupid of me not to check my phone regularly, or at least after leaving Anders' clinic. It was stupid of me not to have seen the missed calls when I answered Fenris' phone call later in my car.

 _I'm so fucking stupid_.

But he shouldn't have yelled at me like that. He shouldn't have asked me to come over just to get yelled at so furiously. I may have scared the shit out of him by not answering his calls, but that doesn't give him the right to  _yell_  at me. He doesn't own me. He's not my parent. What if I was sleeping? Would he have freaking yelled at me because of that? If I don't draw the line now, Maker knows how far he'll go next time.

And what's the deal with him and Anders? I can't take this possessiveness. I just can't. When someone starts restricting who I can talk to and be friends with, I know that trouble is brewing.

He needs anger management courses. That's what he needs. Or a master class from Zevran, who never seems to get ticked off, let alone angry.

I laugh humourlessly when I think about the prospect of Zevran giving Fenris lessons in  _anything_.

I sigh and take a swig of coke, moving the bottle around in a circular motion in mid-air after pulling it away from my lips. I stare at my bare feet.

I'm so pale.

He's so tanned.

He's so  _beautiful_.

He's so beautiful, it  _hurts_.

My heart, I mean.

It hurts just thinking about him. About the fact that he's angry. About the fact that he's possessive and controlling.

About the fact that he's not with me.

"Mistress Hawke?"

I turn around towards the main door of the mansion and see my butler standing by the door in his nightgown.

"Yes, Bodahn?"

"Is everything all right, Mistress? Are you ill?"

"I'm fine, Bodahn," I smile. "Just need some fresh air."

"Would you like me to make you something to eat?" he asks.

"No, thank you. I just ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."

"Okay. Goodnight, Mistress Hawke."

"G'night, Bodahn."

I turn back around and nearly take another swig of coke when I jump and shriek. 

"Fenris! You scared the fucking  _shit_ out of me!"

"I'm sorry!" he whispers. "I thought you saw my message."

"Mistress?!" Bodahn reappears at the door, looking positively shaken. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Bodahn," I say, glaring at Fenris. "Fenris here gave me a fright." I turn to nod at Bodahn and wait until he goes back into the mansion.

"Message?" I'm still trying to get my heart to restart. "My phone's up in my bedroom. How on earth did you get through the gates?"

Fenris holds out a silver key in his right hand.

"You gave me the key to the side gate, remember?" he asks with a small half-smile.

"Oh. Right. I did."

I look at him as he stands before me in the same white wife-beater and grey sweat pants he was wearing earlier today.

 _So fucking beautiful, it's_ **ridiculous**.

"May I?" he asks, indicating towards the space beside me.

"Go ahead," I shrug. He flashes me another small smile and sits down next to me on the step, his warm shoulder touching mine.

"How can I assist you?" I ask dryly.

"I…" He looks down, his hair completely concealing his eyes. When he looks up again, his green eyes meet mine and hold them.

"I came to apologise," he says. "About… about earlier. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

"You're right," I say curtly, turning away and looking straight ahead. "You shouldn't have."

I feel his gaze still on me, but I ignore him. Neither of us says anything for a while.

"I thought you were asleep," he murmurs, breaking the silence.

"Oh yeah? Why did you come, then?" I ask coolly.

He looks down at his twiddling fingers.

"I was walking. To clear my mind and to think. I walked by your gates and saw you sitting here, so I came."

"Oh. How convenient."

Man, I'm  _harsh_.

He exhales audibly.

"Marian, I really am sorry," he says. "I was just so worried, I wasn't thinking straight. I…  _fuck_ , I thought something happened to you! I was out of my mind, Marian, I really was!" He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. I gaze at him before looking away again, determined not to let him soften me.

"I don't know what I'd do if something ever happened to you," he whispers. I look back at him and see abject  _fear_  in his eyes, as though he's visualising something truly terrifying. He turns his face to meet my gaze.

"You're my everything," he whispers.

I look at him and I already feel my resolve breaking.

This being- this  _beautiful_ ,  _ethereal_ , impossibly  _brilliant_  being just said that I'm his everything.

Me.

Marian Hawke.

Goofy, silly, unattractive, clumsy, incredibly unremarkable and ordinary Marian Hawke.

"I just can't believe you accused me of cheating on you," I say.

"Well, what else was I supposed to think? You didn't answer my calls for three hours  _and_  you refused to tell me where you were. You don't know how men look at you, Marian, how much they  _desire_  you."

"Don't be ridiculous," I snap.

"I'm not," he says. "This  _Anders_ ," he says the name with utter disgust, "he doesn't even try to hide it. And you're just so beautiful and kind and  _amazing_. You can't blame me for being jealous."

_Beautiful? Amazing?_

_Me?_

_Since when?_

"That's why I didn't want to tell you where I was," I explain. "I know how you feel about Anders."

"I understand," he nods.

"You should trust me," I tell him. "You have no idea how much you hurt me today."

"You're right," he murmurs, taking my hand in both of his. "I should. And I do. Forgive me, Marian."

I look up into his eyes and I'm struck by how sincere they are.

"I forgive you," I murmur.

A weak smile starts forming on his full lips and he raises his right hand to caress my cheek. I close my eyes and exhale slowly, opening them only when I feel his warm arms wrapping around me and pulling me against his chest in an embrace. He rests his chin on top of my head and I close my eyes, breathing in his familiar musky scent.

I listen to his heartbeat. It's fast. And it makes me smile.

"I am yours, Marian Hawke," he suddenly whispers into the night. "I always will be."

With tears beginning to well up in my eyes, I smile and kiss the spot on his chest right over his heart. And while I want to say something in return, I don't.

I  _can't_.

Because no words can do justice to what I feel for him.


	40. Chapter 40

"Hey."

"Hey," I smile.

_Wait. I know you…_

"Is this seat taken?"

"Nope," I reply, making a  _pop_  sound at the 'p'.

The young, dark-haired, lightly tanned and incredibly handsome guy sits opposite me at my table in some-

_Wait… where am I?_

This isn't the Hanged Man.

It's not the Den, either. In fact, it isn't anyplace that I can recognise. All I know is that it's obviously a bar.

_But which bar?_

_Where?_

"Are you alone here?" the gorgeous guy asks me as he rolls a cigarette.

"Uhh, yeah," I say.

 _And I have no idea why_.

"Do you smoke?" he asks, holding the cigarette between his teeth as he lights it up.

 _Maker's breath, he looks so sexy when he takes a drag_.

"No. I've tried it, but it's been a while."

_Why does he look so familiar?_

_Like,_ **incredibly** _familiar_.

"Have you ever rolled?" he asks, flipping his wavy brown hair away from his eyes.

 _Brown eyes that are so damn romantic_.

I shake my head.

"Want me to teach you?" he smiles.

"Ummm…"

_What's a hot guy like you doing with a girl like me, anyway? And why on earth would you want to teach a stranger how to roll?_

"Sure!"

I always did find it difficult to say 'No'.

I watch him patiently as he pulls out some rolling paper, some tobacco, and a filter and starts to show me how to assemble a cigarette. I find myself mesmerised by the entire process. His soft, gentle voice is making my brain go numb.

 _I have no idea what the heck is going on here, but I sure am liking it_.

"And then, you just lick it like so…"

I feel absolutely hypnotised as I watch the guy (who looks Hispanic) lick one end of the rolling paper to seal it.

"And voila," he purrs, handing me the finished cigarette. "All done. Easy, isn't it?" he smiles.

_Can't think._

_Brain cannot function._

_Brain cannot compute._

_Too much sexiness going on here._

I nod stupidly, as though in a trance.

"Wanna smoke it?" he asks gently. "I made it just for you," he winks.

I blink as I stare first at his gorgeous face, then at the freshly rolled cigarette held between his index finger and thumb.

 _But I don't smoke_.

"Yeah, sure!"

 _But I don't smoke_.

He leans across the table and brings the cigarette to my lips. I open my mouth slightly and allow him to place it between my lips.

_What am I doing?_

_Where am I?_

_Why is a 20-something year old Johnny Depp sitting across from me in an unknown bar and lighting a cigarette that_ he  _rolled for_ me _?_

Aha!

So that's who this is!

Johnny Depp!

I knew he looked familiar!

_Wait… if this is a 20-something year old Johnny Depp, then that means…_

_Fuck!_

_This is a dream!_

"Just inhale and let the smoke fill your lungs," Johnny Depp whispers to me, his brown eyes watching my intently as I take a drag.

_But I don't want it to be a dream!_

_He's so damn sexy!_

_And I'm smoking a cigarette that he rolled especially for me!_

_I never want to wake up_.

"I'd better get going," Johnny Depp tells me. "And I think you should too. Don't wanna keep Fenris waiting, do we?" he winks.

_No! Don't leave!_

_And, how do you know Fenris, Johnny?_

"It was a pleasure, Marian," he stands up and winks at me again before turning around and leaving, his shoulder-length wavy brown hair swishing behind him.

I've never been so heartbroken in my _life_.

Wait.

What the fuck am I talking about?

This is a DREAM.

There  _is_  no twenty-something year old Johnny Depp, especially one who rolls me cigarettes and knows my name and who I'm dating.

I think I'm ready to wake up now.

 _Brain? Did you hear me? I'm DONE. Wake me up_.

_Wake me-_

_Oh. I'm up_.

When I open my eyes, I'm not in some strange pub, smoking a Johnny Depp-rolled cigarette. I'm in my bedroom, in bed, my head resting against Fenris' bare, tattooed chest.

It's still dark, probably the break of dawn, and I can barely see Fenris' features as he breathes deeply next to me. I gaze at his face nonetheless, and I catch myself smiling stupidly as I take in all of his beauty.

 _He's so perfect, even the dark can't hide his beauty_.

I mean, sure I was heartbroken over Johnny Depp's departure, but Fenris is good enough to make up for that little unfortunate situation.

As if he can hear my thoughts, he mumbles something in his sleep and shifts from his back to the side facing me. I have to adjust myself too, since my head was lying on his chest. I slowly move away to give him more space, but his arms curl around me and pull me even closer to him. I smile, nestling my head under his chin and against the front of his neck.

_I love you, Fenris._

_I wish I knew what your last name is._

_I wish_ you _knew._

_I want to use your full name when I tell you that I love you._

_I don't know why. I just do._

_It makes it seem more… sincere?_

_I dunno. I'm weird_.

It's funny how things do a 180. One minute, Fenris is raging and I'm giving him the sarcastic/silent treatment, the next, we're making love and whispering endearments to each other in my bed.

Here's one thing I know for sure:

We are one intense, crazy, overwhelmingly passionate couple.

Mom and Dad were laid back.

Cool.

Chill.

Almost too chill, in fact.

They were both easy going, calm, content and relaxed people.

I never once heard them raise their voices at each other. The most they would do is get into a silly little argument, get annoyed at each other  _during_  the argument, but then, as soon as it's over, they're curled up together on the living room couch and watching the Food Channel on T.V.

 _I think that's where I got my love for the Food Channel_.

But I digress.

And I feel a big, gaping, painful hole in my chest.

I miss my parents.

I miss my sister.

I miss Carver.

I miss my  _family_.

I miss them so  _much_.

But I really don't want to start crying and startle Fenris from his deep slumber, so I force myself to stop thinking about them.

I fall back asleep just as the sunlight starts to shine through the chinks in the curtains, Fenris' musky scent acting like some sort of a drug that calms me down and takes me under.

It feels like I only closed my eyes for a second when my phone starts ringing.

_What the fuck? I thought I put it on silent!_

"Just put it on silent and come back to sleep," Fenris groans sleepily without opening his eyes.

"Let me just see who it is," I say, loosening Fenris' arms from around my waist to reach over to the bedside table.

"It's Bela," I murmur as I answer the call. "Hey Bells."

"Kitten! I didn't wake you, did I?" She sounds incredibly awake. I wonder what time is it?

"Uhhh… yeah… sort of," I smile.

"Sorry! Since when were you such a sleepy head? It's eleven a.m.!"

"Had a late night," I mumble groggily.

"Oooh!" She sounds absolutely  _thrilled_. "Your man's been keeping you awake, has he?"

"You could say that," I grin, peeking over my shoulder at Fenris, who's sleepily watching me, his messy white hair partially covering his eyes.

 _Too much sexiness going on here! Waaaayyyy too much_.

"Glad to hear it," she purrs. "Anyway, I'm just calling to tell you that we're throwing a surprise birthday party for Merrill tomorrow."

"WHAT?" I sit up straight, startling Fenris by my shriek. "And you're telling me this NOW?"

"I forgot!" she says apologetically. "I'm sorry! I totally thought I told you! But hey, I'm telling you now, aren't I?" I can hear the grin in her voice.

"Yeah, and what good is that? The freaking surprise is 24 hours from now!"

"33 hours from now, to be exact," she responds. "Party's not until 8. And it's at the Hanged Man, obviously. Don't worry, kitten," she purrs. "I've got it  _all_  planned out. Trust me. All you have to do is bring yourself and your sexy lover boy and enjoy the party."

I glance at Fenris, who is going through his own phone, and grimace a little.

See, the thing is…

Fenris doesn't really get along all that well with Merrill.

You know, because she's interested in alchemy and all that. Which I totally get, but…

I'm not sure he'll want to come.

I sigh, "No problem, Bells. We'll be there."

"Of course you will!" she exclaims excitedly. "Oooooh, this is going to be great! I can't wait to see the look on Merrill's adorable little face!"

"Yeah," I smile. "I can't wait either."

"Great! All right then, kitten, I'm off to visit Anders at the clinic. I think I may have caught something…"

"How many times have I told you to use protection?" I reprimand her. Fenris shoots me an amused look from behind his phone.

"Condoms sometimes break, kitten," she replies. "It's not my fault. Anyway, it's nothing serious. Just a little rash."

I want to tell her about my visit to Anders yesterday, but there's just no way I'm doing that with Fenris around, so I decide to save it for later.

"All right, then," I exhale. "Good luck with your check-up. Let me know how it goes, okay?"

"Okay, mother," she jokes. "I'll see your gorgeous face tomorrow."

"Yeps, see ya!" I hang up and turn to Fenris, who very promptly locks his phone and sets it aside. He smiles up at me sleepily, and I slink back into his arms and kiss him on the cheek.

"Was that Isabela?" he asks, his sleepy voice so darn  _sexy_  in my ears.

"Mmmhmm," I nod, my eyes closed as I breathe in his scent. I feel calmer when my eyes are closed.

And I _need_  to be calm now.

Because I'm about to tell Fenris that he's invited to Merrill's surprise birthday party.

Merrill.

 _Shit_.

"Uhhh… we're invited to a party tomorrow," I begin. "At the Hanged Man."

"Oh? Who's party? Varric's?" he asks.

"Uhh… no, not Varric's," I gulp.  _Shit. Why can't I just go ahead and say it?_ "It's… well… Bela's throwing a surprise birthday party for Merrill, and we're invited." I babble all of this so quickly, I barely understood  _myself_.

I feel his entire body tense.

_Shit, fuck, shit!_

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," I say, finally opening my eyes and looking up at him.

He blinks down at me, his jaw tense.

"I…" he watches me intently, the wheels in his bran in full motion. "I'll go. For you."

My face instantly lights up.

" _Really_?" I ask incredulously.

"Really," he nods with a smile.

I smile back up at him and kiss him. He snakes him arms tighter around me and kisses me back, a smile still on his lips.

"I can't let you get away," he grins, his green eyes gazing into mine. "Not even for a birthday party."

"So now you're going to follow me everywhere I go?" I ask playfully. "Just because I didn't answer your call yesterday? By  _accident_ , might I add?"

"You bet," he smiles. "You're on probation from now on. And that entails me being with you wherever you go."

I smile and kiss him lightly, stroking his hair away from his eyes.

I love the fact that he's joking after being told that he's been invited to Merrill's birthday. I can tell that he's  _really_  trying to improve and be more relaxed around my friends.

All for  _me_.

"I like the sound of that," I purr. " _A lot_."

He smiles and rolls on top of me, pinning me down with his weight and cupping my face in his hands.

"You are so  _beautiful_ ," he whispers, his eyes moving from my eyes, to my lips, and back. I blush and caress the side of his face, smiling shyly.

"You're not so bad yourself," I tease him.

He chuckles and dips his head down to kiss me, slowly and gently at first, then deepening and intensifying the kiss when I wrap my legs around his waist and push his body as close to mine as possible. The sounds of his moans and heavy breathing fill my ears when we start making love, and I could swear that, at this very moment, I am genuinely the happiest person on this earth.

Post love-making, we head over to the bathroom and take a shower together. I purposely take longer to finish my shower so that I could stay behind and shave my legs and underarms (call me childish, but there's  _no way_  I'm doing that in front of him).

When I get out of the steamy bathroom, I see that he's sitting on the foot of the bed, still in noting but a towel wrapped around his waist, typing away on his phone.

I also see that he once again very promptly locks his phone and puts it away as soon as I'm out of the bathroom.

 _Huh_.

 _That's the second time he's done that this morning_.

_What's the deal with that, I wonder?_


	41. Chapter 41

"Stop fidgeting, Anders, she's nearly here!" Isabela hisses.

Anders, Varric, Zevran, Fenris, myself, and Carver (Commander Meredith miraculously believed the letter I sent her stating that an urgent family matter requires Carver's presence, a fact that I am _very_  proud of, considering Meredith is virtually unshakeable when it comes to giving her troops some down time) are huddled in the fancy and very dark VIP lounge upstairs in the Hanged Man, waiting to pounce on Merrill, who thinks she's coming in for a shift, as soon as she steps in. Varric had the lounge sealed off from the public, all to honour our sweet little Merrill's 27th birthday (when I say little, I mean  _physically_  little. The girl's a bird. A very cheerful, adorable, green-eyed Welsh bird).

"What's taking her?" Anders hisses back. "You said she was at the parking lot  _ages_  ago!"

"She'll be here any minute," Isalebal whispers. "Oh, the look on her face when she sees that  _you're_  here, Carver!" she says gleefully. "I'm sure she-"

Isabela stops midsentence when we hear footsteps out in the hallway.

"Shh, she's coming!" she whispers excitedly.

Huddled in the dark, I can almost physically  _feel_ the excitement and anticipation around me. I try to see Fenris' face, but it's impossible in the dark. I am, however, very aware of the strong arm he has protectively curled around my waist.

Turning my attention back to the door, I hear the beep sound that the scanner makes when you scan the V.I.P card on it, followed by the smooth sound of the glass door sliding open. I see the outline of Merrill's petite frame pause at the doorway, clearly puzzled by the pitch black state of the otherwise elegantly lit lounge. As soon as she takes a step in, Isabela flicks on the lights and we all shout "Surprise!" in unison.

"By the Creators!" she jumps and shrieks, all of the blood leaving her already pale face.

"Happy Birthday, Merrill!" we all chant, jumping around her and taking turns to hug and kiss her.

"You guys!" she grins widely, one hand over her mouth. "I can't believe this!"

"Believe it, kitten!" Isabela laughs, stooping down to hug and kiss Merrill on the cheek.

"Happy Birthday, Merrill," I say, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her in for a tight hug. "Twenty seven! You barely look seventeen!"

"Thank you, Hawke!" she beams up at me, her incredibly youthful face all flushed and absolutely  _adorable_.

"Happy Birthday, Merrill," Fenris says from his place beside me. I quickly turn to look at him, and I'm extremely and pleasantly surprised to see that he has a genuinely warm smile on his face. Merrill's cheeks turn a deeper shade of red when she meets his eyes.

It's just hit me that this is probably the first time he's ever said more than one word to her directly, and in a kind and sweet manner at that.

_He's really trying_. Either that, or Merrill's actually starting to grow on him. Somehow, I seriously doubt that.

"Thank you, Fenris," she smiles, her large green eyes shyly darting to the floor. Fenris shoots me a glance and flashes me that private little half-smile that he reserves just for me. I smile back and reach out to lightly squeeze his hand as a silent 'thank you.'

"Hey, Merrill."

Merrill's eyes immediately flit up and widen to an almost bug-like state at the sound of my brother's voice to my left.

"Happy Birthday," Carver smiles awkwardly.

"Carver!" She flings her skinny arms around his neck and full on kisses him right then and there. Carver looks shocked and taken aback at first, but he quickly snakes his hands around her waist and kisses her back, rolling his eyes at me when he sees me grinning like an idiot and waggling my eyebrows like a criminal out of a kid's cartoon behind Merrill's back.

"All right you two, you'll have plenty of time  _after_  the party!" Isabela smirks, though I can tell that she's really touched by the little spectacle.

"I can't believe you came," Merrill murmurs to Carver, stroking his short dark hair away from his pale blue eyes.

"All thanks to my brilliant sister," he grins at me. "Meredith wouldn't have let me go if it weren't for her."

"Oh, Hawke!" Merrill exclaims, letting go of Carver to throw her arms around me instead.

"Woah now, Mells," I grin and pat her back. "It's not like I got you Billie Joe Armstrong or something! It's only Carver!"

Merrill has this thing for Green Day's front man. I don't blame her. I mean, you can't go wrong with Billie Joe Armstrong. Or Green Day, for that matter. But that's just my biased and extremely humble opinion.

"Are you folks done with the hugging and kissing yet?" Zevran asks from the bar. "Those drinks won't drink themselves, you know!"

With Fenris' arm protectively wrapped around my waist again, we all head to the neon-lit bar and, in every sense of the term, the festivities truly begin.

Isabela compiled a playlist of Merrill's favourite songs and has them playing in the background as we settle around on the stool seats surrounding the circular bar and sip on some drinks while we wait for the food to be brought in. There's no menu or anything; every single offered at the Hanged Man will be brought up to us.  _Free of freaking charge_. Everything is free of charge; the venue, the drinks, the food.  _Everything_.

Ah, the benefits of having the owner of the Hanged Man for a close friend!

When the glass doors slide open and the food is brought in, I choke on my coke and I nearly inhale the drink through my nostrils. Fenris has to resort to patting my back to help me breathe.

I should've expected something like this. This  _is_  Isabela's party, after all. I really don't know why I choked as hard as I did when I saw  _them_.

_Extremely_  fit,  _extremely_  tanned and extremely  _glistening_  men in nothing but leopard print G-strings and neon-coloured skates come gliding into the room, each of them balancing a tray of food in their hands.

I feel like I'm in a strip club.

Not that I've ever been to one. Oh no. Marian Hawke is too much of a prude to go to such places.

But I'm not really missing out on anything, because what I'm seeing before my eyes right now? Bulging leopard prints and tight, muscular, shiny asses in all their naked glory gliding around the place and serving us our food?

It's a hen party! Isabela's throwing a hen party for Merrill's twenty seventh birthday even though she isn't getting married and half of the invitees are guys.

"Bellissima!" Zevran laughs heartily. "What is this sexiness that I am beholding? Can I take them home?"

"They're not for sale," Isabela smirks over a glass of whisky. "But you can always take  _me_  home, sweet thing," she purrs in a seductive way that makes  _me_  blush.

"That goes without question, my dear," Zevran purrs back in an equally seductive tone.

I grin and bite my lower lip, glancing down at my drink before sneaking a peek at Fenris, who is calmly engaged in conversation with Varric about the karate classes at the gym. He senses my eyes on him and meets my gaze, flicking his eyes towards one of the G-string waiters and raising his eyebrows in amusement. I giggle and nod, looking away to focus my attention on Anders to my left, who is drinking silently and bobbing his head in time to the music.

"Enjoying yourself?" I call over the music. He looks up at me with kind brown eyes and smiles weakly.

"Yeah," he nods. "It's nice to be around friends for a change. Out of that clinic."

I smile back, "Yeah, I'll bet." I quicklyglance over at Fenris, who is busy looking at something that Varric is showing him on his phone. "How've you been doing lately?" I ask in a low voice. "Are the new meds and therapy sessions any good?"

"Brilliant," Anders beams. "Seriously, Marian, I can't thank you enough. And it'll probably be a few years until I can repay you even a  _fraction_  of-"

"What did I tell you in the clinic, Anders?" I snap. "You are  _not_  paying me back. Ever. I  _want_  to help you. I don't expect anything in return. End of story."

He stares at me silently for a while, a little smile playing on his thin lips.

"I owe you my life, Marian," he says in a voice so low, I can barely hear him over the music and Isabela's pirate-like cackles in the background. His eyes fixed on mine, he extends his hand across the shiny black marble surface of the bar and places it over mine.

He's so  _warm_. Everything about him is warm; his eyes, his smile, his touch. I can't help but really,  _really_  like Anders. I feel protective about him. Like a mama bear who'd tear at anyone that tried to hurt him.

He  _needs_  a protector. I've never met someone as  _fragile_ and helpless as he is.

Maker bless him.

I'm very vaguely aware of the fact that Fenris has a narrowed gaze focusing on our hands, so I gently slide it from underneath Anders' palm and give his hand a gentle squeeze before bringing it back to my glass of coke. Fenris has been exceptionally nice to everyone tonight; I don't want to push it.

"She always wins!" I hear Merrill exclaim with mild exasperation. "Why do you always win at cards, Bela?" she asks a cackling and tipsy Isabela.

"Because I  _cheat_ , kitten," Isabela smiles, twirling a peculiar piece of jewellery in her fingers. "This belonged to your grandmother, didn't it?" she asks Merrill, who nods. "Don't bet anything you aren't willing to lose, kitten.  _Especially_ when you're playing against me," she adds with a wink.

Carver, who is silently sitting next to Merrill, looks painfully uncomfortable.

"Uhh, Merrill?" he asks in a surprisingly soft voice. I'm not used to hearing Carver sound so…  _gentlemanly_.

"Yes?" she beams up at him, fluttering eyelashes and all.

So fucking  _cute_.

"Do you wanna umm… maybe… I dunno…" Carver shrugs, completely oblivious to the fact that Isabela and I are staring-  _bug-eyed_ \- at the two of them. "Would you like to dance?" he finally manages to ask  _very_  quickly.

Us Hawkes. We kind of sprint-talk when we're nervous.

I feel warm and fuzzy when I see Merrill's large green eyes light up.

"I'd love to," she beams, her cheeks turning into a deep scarlet shade. Grinning shyly, she allows Carver to lead her to the dance floor and they start dancing to I Wanna Rock With U by Janet Jackson.

That's a sexy song.

_Really_  sexy.

In fact, I've always fantasised about making love to Fenris to that song. Am I weird?

Wait, why on earth am I even asking that question?

Zevran soon comes and sweeps Isabela off her seat, leading her to the dance floor to join Carver and Merrill. Varric smiles and puffs a cigar as he watches them, and Anders is back to bobbing his head to the music and popping some fried calamari into his mouth, but he's smiling and watching the others dance too.

I shoot a side glance over at Fenris, who is quietly sipping his wine and watching our friends dance, though in his case, a smile is absent.

"Hey," I murmur, lightly nudging him in the ribs.

He starts as though I roused him from a very deep reverie, but quickly recovers and smiles at me, setting his wine glass down.

"Are you going to ask me what I think you're going to ask me?" he asks with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression.

"You betcha," I grin. I take his hand and he allows me to steer him to the neon-lit dance floor, where Isabela and Zevran pulled in the G-string waiters to join them.

I've never danced with Fenris. We've been together for nearly a freaking year and we've  _never_  danced.

Which is a good thing, come to think of it, since I'm clumsy and jerky as fuck.

A track by DJ Tiesto starts playing. I start awkwardly moving around on the spot, grinning at Fenris, who is also doing some sort of an awkward, on-the-spot groove, the only difference being that he looks _incredibly_  sexy doing it.

"I'm going to have to punish you for doing this to me, Hawke," he smiles at me.

"Punish me all you like," I smirk. "When we get home," I add, taking a step closer and whispering it into his ear. I blush and bite my lower lip when I feel and see him shudder.

Right on cue, a slow song starts to play.  _Flightless Bird_  by Iron and Wine.

Maker's breath. Are we in a Twilight movie or what?

Still, it's a good song. Once you get rid of the mental image of a sparkling vampire and an emo chick in a cast slow-dancing to it.

Fenris wraps his arms around my waist and I place mine on his shoulders.

_Those broad, muscular, strong and sexy shoulders_.

"Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?" he murmurs, his eyes gazing into mine.

I smile and blush, my eyes darting down to the floor. My blushing intensifies when I feel his gaze fixed on my already too red face.

"You don't look too shabby yourself," I grin.

"You're always beautiful," he continues in a soft, low voice. "Almost unbelievably so."

I glance back up at him and meet his gaze. I feel a jolt somewhere in my stomach when our eyes meet.

_Maker_.  _What is this magic?_

I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my forehead against his left shoulder, breathing in his scent of musk and eau de cologne.

"Thank you," I whisper more to myself than to him.

"For what?" he asks.

"For… for showing up."

"To Merrill's birthday party?" Even though I can't see his face, I know he's smiling.

Because he knows  _exactly_  what I mean.

We have a connection. A sort of silent understanding. So, when I say something like " _thank you for showing up_ ," I know that  _he_  knows that what I actually mean is " _thank you for showing up in my life, because I really needed you, even though I didn't know it_."

I smile into his shirt and kiss his chest right over his heart, which is beating as rapidly as mine is. I pull back and look up at his face, feeling like the luckiest person on earth when I see him warmly smiling down at me, his eyes full of unspoken words and feelings that echo mine.

And I know at that moment that even though he may never actually say the words, he loves me.


	42. Chapter 42

By eleven, we're all stuffed with really yummy food that Isabela helped cook herself. I think I spent the entire night complimenting her on it, actually. I may have annoyed her a little.

Carver and Merrill had to be dragged back into the lounge by Isabela, who went looking for them nearly an hour after they slinked away to do Maker knows what (I think we all know _exactly_  what they were doing, but thinking about my baby brother doing  _very_  adult things makes me queasy).

Five minutes before midnight, we all gather around a large, white chocolate and vanilla cake baked by Isabela (the woman's a Master Chef!) and sing 'Happy Birthday' to a grinning and blushing Merrill, whose tiny, slender hand is held in Carver's much larger manly one. After much clapping and singing and blowing of twenty seven candles (we had to light them up twice because Zevran blew them out the first time. Isabela wasn't impressed. She's like Merrill's mother at times, I swear!), Isabela cuts the cake and Merrill starts opening her presents.

"From Isabela," she calls out after ripping open the first red box. Her green eyes grow wide and her cheeks turn into an even deeper shade of scarlet as she pulls out her gift from the box.

"Well?" Varric asks impatiently. "What is it, Daisy?"

"Ummm," Merrill gulps and lets out an awkward giggle. She holds up what appears to be a book.

' _1001 Ways to Seduce In the Bedroom_ '.

 _Totally Isabela_.

"It's a good thing Carver has the night off," Isabela winks. "That way, you can put the book to good use tonight!"

Carver turns just as red as Merrill, but neither of them do anything other than awkwardly glance at each other and the floor. Still giggling slightly, Merrill reaches over to Isabela and gives her a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Next gift!" I call out. Fenris smirks at my apparent impatience.

 _I'm an over-grown kid, that's what I am_.

Merrill very eagerly obliges and practically lunges at the next gift; a large, flat, and black box. With a little less enthusiasm and a bit more caution than she employed when opening Isabela's gift, she reaches towards the little white card taped to the box and reads it out loud.

"From Zevran," she says with a hint of panic in her voice.

"Oh, come on!" Zevran laughs. "Just open it, Merrill! It won't bite, I promise."

Merrill blinks up at Zevran and nods, a little smile creeping across her face. She carefully rips the black paper away and opens the lid of the box.

"Ooooooh!" Merrill gasps.

While still risky and totally something that Zevran would get, his gift is a little less out there than Isabela's; a really elegant black and green lace lingerie set.

"Oh, Zevran!" she exclaims and throws her arms around his neck. "It's beautiful! Victoria's Secret! It must've cost you a fortune!"

"Nothing is too much for our little Merrill," Zevran grins down at her fondly.

"But how did you know my size?" Merrill asks innocently.

"My darling, when you are as experienced as I am with women, these things become second nature," he says wisely.

Grinning, Merrill gives Zevran a quick peck on the cheek (Carver scowls at that), and gets back to her pile of gifts.

When I see the box next in line, my heart picks up its pace.

 _It's our turn_.

"Oooh, this box is heavy!" Merrill exclaims as she picks up our golden-wrapped box; the largest in the pile. "From Marian and Fenris," she reads out, shooting us a smile before ripping off the paper. We all wait patiently as she opens the box and starts pulling away the bubble wrap.

"By the Creators!" she gasps when she finally uncovers the gift. Everyone gasps when they see it.

We got her a vase.

Well, okay, an expensive vase. A really expensive one. One that cost us a fortune, really. It's an antique and one-of-a-kind Chinese piece that we found in an antique shop in Hightown. Since Merrill is very much a plant person, we thought it'd be perfect for her. Fenris paid for half of it while I took care of the other half (I argued incessantly with him to let me pay three-fourths of the cost, but he wouldn't budge).

"Oh, you two!" she squeals, carefully placing the vase on a table and flinging her arms around our necks. "How much did you spend on this?" she asks with bright eyes when she pulls away.

"Nothing crazy," I grin.

 _Liar_.

"No fair, Hawke!" Varric calls out. "You've set the standard way too high!"

"What can I say?" I laugh with a shrug. "This is Merrill we're talking about!"

"Oh,  _thank_ you!" she stands on her the tips of her toes and kisses me three times on my right cheek before swooping up to kiss Fenris' cheek once. I feel him go rigid beside me, but he manages to smile slightly all the same.

"You're welcome," I smile, watching her hop back to open the rest of her gifts. Fenris immediately relaxes when she goes away, slinking an arm around my waist and squeezing me gently.

One by one, Merrill goes through the rest of her presents. Varric got her a beautiful gold Rolex wrist watch (yes, you read right: a friggin  _Rolex_ ), Anders got her a collector's edition of every single Green Day album known to man, and Carver got her a painting of a beautiful green landscape in a gilded golden frame.

When she's done, we all dig into the cake, which I must say is one the most  _delicious_ ,  _mind-blowing_  cakes I have  _ever_  had the pleasure to eat.

Needless to say, the party was a complete success. Varric offers to let Anders stay over in a room for the night for free (Varric's been very attentive towards Anders lately), Isabela and Zevran disappear with two of the G-string waiters after kissing Merrill goodbye and wishing us all a goodnight, Merrill and Carver collect all the gifts and load it in the trunk of Merrill's green Beetle, and Fenris and I head back to my parked car, pulling up the collars of our coats against the surprisingly chilly September night.

"Well, that was fun!" I smile at Fenris as we slide into my car. I start the engine and quickly blast on the heater.

"It was," he nods with a half-smile.

"Thanks for agreeing to come along," I murmur, placing my hand over his and giving it a slight squeeze.

"Anything for you," he murmurs back, bringing up my hand to his lips and kissing it.

Suppressing a shudder, I drive out of the parking lot and get onto the main road back to Hightown. Fenris reaches over to the dashboard and turns on the radio. He switches to CD mode and leans back into his seat as the soft tones of his favourite band, Bon Iver, play in the background.

"My place or yours?" I ask after a stretch of comfortable silence.

"Hmmm."  _Shit, that 'hmmm' sound he makes! It's friggin delicious._ "Maybe my place tonight," he replies. "To change things up," he adds with a smile.

"Kay," I smile back, my eyes fixed on the deserted road.

I park outside his mansion and we both get out, Fenris reaching out to pull me close against him in the harshly cold night air. He glances around nervously as he fumbles with his keys to unlock the door. It's a habit of his; one that I've noticed for quite some time now. When I asked him about it once, he told me how he knew Danarius would never just let him be.

We step into the warmth of the mansion and head upstairs to his bedroom.

"It's  _freezing_ ," he says, a shiver visibly running through him. "Wanna go for a hot shower?" he asks with a smile.

 _A seductive smile_.

"Yessir!" I grin. His eyes fixed on mine, he takes my hand in his and leads me to the large marble bathroom that we had our little romantic bath in last Saturday, only this time, we hop into the shower instead of the bathtub.

We kiss lazily under the steaming hot water for a while. I slightly open my eyes and feel weak in the knees when I see how fucking  _beautiful_  he looks with his eyes closed, kissing me as though I'm the most precious thing on earth to him. I pull away from him slightly when his hands slide down to my lower back, pressing me against him, and smile up at him, my chest pressed against his.

"Save some for later, tiger," I purr.

"Could you request something a little less impossible?" he asks in a ragged voice, his eyes half closed.

 _Fuck, I_ want _him_.

I bring my lips back to his and bite his lower lip, the sound of his groans echoing off the marble walls and sending tremors through me. He takes me right there in the shower, the two of us standing up, and I'm in blissful, ecstatic oblivion for the next ten minutes or so, until the two of us are panting against each other, my handprints decorating the steamy glass door of the shower.

After a quick lather of shampoo, he takes my sponge and starts to gently scrub every inch of my body, kissing each part as the running water rinses off the soap. As soon as he's done, I take his sponge and return the favour. We then rub ourselves dry and head back to his bedroom, feeling warm enough to remain naked now that our bodies have soaked up all the heat from the water.

He pushes me onto the bed and lowers himself on top of me, kissing me deeply and fervently. He slides down, making a trail of kisses down my neck, my chest, my stomach, until he reaches down  _there_. He stays there, doing things,  _magical_  things, with his lips and tongue that drive me  _insane_. Just as I'm about to topple off the edge, he pulls away, sliding back up to bring his face level with mine.

"Please," I whisper, practically twitching with ecstasy. I moan and spasm when I feel him slide into me, and the sound of his moans in my ear only drive me  _crazier_.

"Fenris," I whisper mindlessly, feeling his scorching hot skin slide against mine. " _Fenris_!"

We come together. I must say, I think this is the most intense orgasm I've ever had. It's almost  _life-changing_ , as stupid as that sounds.

"You're trembling," he remarks breathlessly, still panting on top of me.

"And you've got yourself to blame," I pant, closing my eyes and trying to control my twitching.

"This is payback for making me dance at the party tonight," he whispers into my ear, sending another violent tremor through my body.

"If this is the payback I get for making you do things against your will, then I think I'll be doing that a lot more often," I grin.

He chuckles into my ear and presses his face against the side of my neck, breathing in deeply.

We fall asleep like that. When I wake up a few hours later, I'm on my side and he's curled up behind me. I take the hand he has curled around my waist and weave my fingers into his.

"Marian?" he says.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" I ask, turning around to face him. I can barely see his face in the dark.

"No, I was already awake," he replies, placing his hand on the side of my face.

"Is something wrong?" I ask with concern.

"I…" he watches my face, which is illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window facing me. "I need to tell you something. Something very important.

"What?" I ask.

He watches me silently for a while, absentmindedly stroking the length of my face.

"I found my sister," he finally whispers.

"WHAT?!" I shriek, startling him when I jump up into a sitting position. "You  _did_?! Maker's breath! How? When? Where?!"

He sits up with me, and I'm surprised to see that he looks anything but excited.

"I didn't tell you, but I followed up on Hadriana's information. Everything she said was true," he says. When I don't say anything, he continues. "I had to keep it quiet, but I eventually contacted Varania and sent her money enough to come meet me. And now… Now she's here." He looks up at me, studying my reaction.

"What… How… How did you find her?" I ask, feeling completely shocked.

"I looked her name up online. Found her on facebook, of all places," he says with a humourless chuckle. "I created a new email account and contacted her. She didn't believe me at first, but when I told her about Danarius and Hadriana, she did. She lives in Minrathous- the capital of Tevinter. She works there. As a tailor."

I sit there, trying to digest everything he's telling me.

"Isn't this a good thing?" I finally ask him. "You're worried. I can tell."

"I am worried," he sighs. "I'm worried Danarius is somehow behind this."

"Danarius? You think he's in contact with you sister?"

He shakes his head, looking frustrated.

"Remember what I told you after I had my run in with Hadriana? This could all be a trap orchestrated by Danarius. If Hadriana knew about my sister, so did Danarius. There's no way he doesn't know. No way…" he shakes his head, looking hopeless.

"What are you going to do?" I ask him.

He looks up at me, a lock of hair falling over his eyes.

"I'm going to meet her," he replies. "I have to. But I can't do it alone." He grabs both of my hands, his eyes intense. "I need you to come with me, Marian," he says with great urgency. "If this is a trap, I need you with me to back me up."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask.

He nods.

"I can't simply leave it like this," he says. "I _have_  to know."

"Where will she be?"

"At the Hanged Man," he replies. "She'll be there for the next week, at least. Please come with me, Marian," he implores me. "It'd mean a lot to me."

"Of course I'll go with you, Fenris," I say soothingly. "Without a doubt. Don't worry," I whisper and caress the side of his face. "When do you want us to go?"

He hesitates, thoroughly thinking it through.

"Tomorrow," he says.

"Okay," I nod.

He smiles warmly at me, tightening his grasp on my hands.

"Thank you, Marian," he whispers, leaning in to kiss me lightly.

"Any time," I smile against his lips.

He pulls me back down with him and I nestle against his chest, tracing the markings on his chest out of habit.

The markings that Danarius inflicted on him.

I suppress a shiver, a very different kind of shiver to the ones I experienced earlier tonight, and Fenris pulls the blanket up to my chin, curling his arms around me and holding me close against his warm body.

 _Everything will be fine, Hawke_.

 _Everything will be fine_.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the incredibly long wait! I had exams and assignments and work and PMS-related emotional drama these past couple of weeks and I absolutely couldn't write anything. I hope this makes up for the hiatus! xxx

When I wake up the next morning, it's  _freezing_. And the fact that Fenris and I are completely naked with nothing but a comforter and the natural heat of our bodies to keep warm isn't really helping all that much.

As slowly and as quietly as I can, I begin to slide from underneath the arm Fenris has thrown over my waist and get out of bed, the cold stone floor nearly painful against the bare skin of the soles of my feet. I tiptoe across the room towards the open window. I shut it quietly yet firmly and hurry back to bed, only to stop short when I see my clothes sprawled on the wooden bench before the fireplace.

I stoop down next to them and pull the tiny red neck scarf I had worn around my neck last night at Merrill's party. I stare at it thoughtfully for a while, twirling it in my hands. I feel a smile spread across my face when an idea pops into my head.

This scarf is very dear to me. I have some really fond memories of it. I mean, I was wearing it when memorable things happened in my life, one of them being that night when Fenris and I had a drink together at the Hanged Man for the first time over a year ago.

A shiver suddenly runs through me and I quickly get up and slide back into bed again. I lie down on my side, facing Fenris, and watch his peaceful expression as he deeply breathes in and out, fast asleep. I gently take his right wrist in my hand and neatly tie the red scarf around. Once I'm done, I snuggle in against his chest and kiss him there, breathing in his scent and listening to the sounds of his steady breathing and his heart until I fall asleep again.

After what seems like a few seconds later, I wake up to the smell of cooking wafting into the bedroom. I open my eyes and rub them, blinking in confusion when I see that Fenris' side of the bed is vacant. His side of the bed sheet is cool against my palm when I slide my hand to feel it; he's been up for a while.

_But, how? I only fell asleep for a few minutes, right?_

I roll over and grab my phone from the bedside table and look at the time.

11:04 am.

_Huh_.

I guess it was more than just a few minutes.

I sit up, yawn, stretch, swing my legs onto the cold floor and sit on the edge of the bed, yawn some more, and shuffle off to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, picking up my discarded clothes on the way. Once I'm dressed and washed, I quickly head back to Fenris' bedroom to take my phone, which I forgot on the bedside table. When I turn around to leave the room and head downstairs to the kitchen, I see Fenris by the door, fully dressed and holding a tray of food in his hands.

"Good morning, sleepy head," he smiles as he walks into the room and sets the tray on his wooden desk.

"Good morning," I grin, my eyes on the tray of delicious sausages, toast and scrambled eggs. "And, what's all this?"

"Well, I intended to serve you breakfast in bed," he replies, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in against him, "but someone woke up a bit earlier than expected," he purrs, covering my lips with his.

"Thank you," he murmurs, resting his forehead against mine.

"What for?" I ask breathlessly, my head spinning from his intoxicating kiss.

"For this," he says, standing straight and bringing his right wrist up.

_My scarf_.

_I completely forgot about that! What kind of a person_ are _you, Hawke?_

"Oh," I blush, my eyes darting to the ground. "You're… you're welcome."

He smiles at me, his eyes gazing at my face with warm tenderness. Then, he abruptly pulls me back to bed, making me sit on my side of it (the right one, if anyone was curious. He's a left side sort of person, apparently).

"What're you doing?" I laugh in surprise.

"What I initially planned on doing," he replies as he takes the breakfast tray from the table and places it on my lap. "Serving you breakfast. In bed." He pauses, slightly frowning down at me. "But I didn't envisage you fully dressed," he says, cocking his head to the side.

I laugh, looking down at the food before me. The smell and sight of it makes my mouth water.

"Aren't you going to eat?" I ask when I spot cutlery enough for one person only.

"Already ate," he replies as he makes the bed while I'm sitting on it.

"What time did you wake up?"

"Around nine," he says. He stands up straight and looks at me. "I… didn't really sleep at all, actually," he says in a low voice.

"Nervous about today?" I ask, realising for the first time the dark circles under his eyes.

He shrugs and looks away towards the window.

"Anxious is more like it," he murmurs. "I don't know what to expect."

I want to get up and hug him, but the tray is full of food and there's a full cup of milk and tea perched on it, and judging by my incredibly clumsy nature, I should probably just sit here and eat. The last thing I want is to spill everything all over Fenris' pristine white bed sheets.

I pick up the fork and knife and start cutting away at the sausages.

"You should really teach me how to cook sometime," I say through a mouthful of sausages and eggs. "Everyone seems to be great at it but me."

He turns away from the window and smiles at me warmly.

"Sure," he says softly, "I'll teach you. There's nothing to it, really."

"Let me be the judge of that," I say after a sip of milk and tea.

"I put a teaspoon of brown sugar in that," he says as he watches me. "Just the way you like it."

"Thanks," I smile up at him. I can't see his face clearly because of the bright sunlight flooding in through the window behind him. "What time are we leaving, then?" I ask.

He checks the clock on the wall.

"As soon as you're done," he replies. "No rush or anything, but I'd rather meet her during the day. When it's still early."

He really is anxious (as he put it).

"Good idea," I say before getting back to tucking into my food. I didn't realise that I was  _famished_!

Fenris sits down on the edge of the bed, gazing at the red scarf around his wrist.

"I felt so guilty when I took it off to have a shower this morning," he murmurs, his eyes fixed in the silky red material against his caramel skin and intricate white markings. "Took me quite a while to tie it back on," he smiles, a lock of hair falling into his moss-green eyes when he glances up at me.

I merely smile back, not able to think of anything to say in response. I purposely busy myself with cutting up some more sausage.

"Do you want more ketchup with that?" he asks politely.

I shake my head.

"All good," I smile.

He silently sits next to me for a while, his gaze unfocused as he stares into the distance.

Watching him being so anxious like this… I can't help but feel anxious myself.

_What's the worst that could happen?_  We're just going to meet his  _sister_. At the  _Hanged Man_. In broad  _daylight_.

_Yep. Completely nothing to worry about, Hawke_.

It'll be fine.

_It'll be fine_.

* * *

"You okay?" I ask after I park my car close to the tavern entrance.

He nods his head silently without looking at me.

"Look, Fenris, you don't have to do this. You can call her and apologise if-"

"No," he firmly says, his soft, silver hair falling over his eyes as he shakes his head. "I  _have_  to do this."

I nod, watching him with concern. I unlock the doors and step out into the bright sunlight. Looking up to see the friendly, bright blue sky helps to ease the unshakeable tension I'm feeling.

I turn to see him get out of the car and shut the door, the bright red scarf standing out against the otherwise brown and bland Lowtown surroundings as he runs his right hand through his hair.

As we walk to the entrance together, I brush my hand against his in an attempt to calm him. He brushes back, but the smile that usually creeps across his face is nowhere to be seen.

He places his hand against the wooden door and pauses. After what seems like a very brief internal pep talk, he nods his head once to himself and pushes open the door, allowing the bright sunlight to flood into the bar, causing some of the patrons to blink away and shield their eyes.

He stops there, right at the entrance, looking around. I do the exact same thing, except I have no idea who I'm looking for. I mean, he never described her to me, never showed me a picture or anything. I wonder if  _he_  knows what she looks like.

We take a couple of steps in. I notice redheaded woman sitting by the bar, listening to a brown-haired man tell her an animated story.

_Chief Inspector Aveline_.  _And isn't that her husband, Donnic?_

_Brilliant! Now I definitely feel safe!_

Suddenly, Fenris freezes beside me. I quickly look at him and follow his gaze.

It's directed at a lone, extremely pale and petite woman with fiery red hair and an impeccable Grecian nose.

_Fenris' nose_.

She looks up from her seat and stares at Fenris with bright and extremely familiar looking moss-green eyes.

_Maker_ …

"It really is you," she says in a mature, deep voice.

"Va… _Varania_?" Fenris asks with disbelief.

She nods up with a solemn expression on her pale face.

"I… I remember you," Fenris says, his expression almost nostalgic. "We played at that courtyard while Mother worked. You called me-"

"Leto," she finishes, standing up. "That's your name."

_Leto._

_Wow..._

I'm just standing there, watching this reunion, and I can't help but feel that there's something  _off_. She's way too miserable for someone who's meeting her brother again for the first time in Maker knows how many years.

"What's wrong?" Fenris asks.  _So I'm not the only one_. "Why are you so-"

"Fenris, we have to get out of here!" I suddenly say, grabbing his hand in mine.

"Ah, my little Fenris," a male voice says from the stairs leading to the upper floor. "Predictable as always."

I look up, horror creeping across my face when I realise who this is. I don't need to be told. It's  _instinctual_. I just  _know_.

I quickly glance at Fenris, who is just as horrified as I am, if not more.

"I'm sorry it came to this, Leto," Varania says, hanging her head sadly and shaking it.

_Fuck you, bitch! You betrayed him!_

"You led him here!" Fenris snarls at her, anger quickly replacing his shock.

"Now, now, Fenris," the tall, pale, grey-haired devil called Danarius drawls as he approaches us. "Don't blame your sister. She did what any good imperial citizen should."

"I never wanted those filthy markings, Danarius, but I won't let you kill me to get them," Fenris snarls venomously. I notice Chief Inspector Aveline and her husband Donnic watching us closely, clearly anticipating a commotion.

Danarius chuckles heartily, as though Fenris was a child reciting a very well-rehearsed joke. "How little you know, my pet." He looks at me for the first time, the arrogant smile on his face widening when he meets my eyes.

"Oh? And this must be that pretty little thing I'm told you're a slave to nowadays," he drawls, eyeing me with great interest. "Impressive."

"Fenris isn't a slave to  _anyone_ ," I snarl. We're all snarling here, actually. Except for this unnervingly calm, old motherfucker, that is.

"Do I detect a note of jealousy?" Danarius smirks with raised eyebrows. "It's not surprising. The lad is rather skilled, isn't he?" he says, his eyes now fixed on Fenris with a hunger that makes me feel sick to my stomach.

_Skilled? What the fuck is this nutcase going on about?_

"Shut your mouth, Danarius!" Fenris growls, his entire frame shaking with fury.

Danarius sighs impatiently, a look of disapproval creeping across his face for the first time.

"The word is 'master'," he says reproachfully. Suddenly, a tall and burly-looking man emerges from the small crowd and stands by Danarius' side, glaring down at me and Fenris.

"What's going on over there?" Aveline calls out, getting up from her bar stool and taking a couple of steps towards us, Donnic right at her heels.

Everything happens at the speed of lightening then. At the same time I see Danarius and his bodyguard reach towards the inner pocket of their jackets, I feel a very strong arm push my behind and out of the way. I lose my balance from the violence of the push and fall, landing painfully on my elbow.

"Hey!" Aveline and Donnic yell. "Put the weapon down!"

_Weapon?_

I look up to see Aveline and Donnic advancing with their guns pointed at Danarius and his lackey, who both have a gun drawn and pointed at Fenris before them.

Then, a loud, deafening gunshot fills my ears and sends my heart flying. Screams erupt from every corner of the tavern, which starts shaking as everyone scurries towards the exit, shoving and yelling at the top of their lungs. Someone shoves me while I'm still on the ground and knocks my head against the hard, wooden leg of a table. I blink, the pain searing and making my eyes water.

You have to remember that all of this is happening incredibly quickly. Simultaneously.

I squint my eyes and hear Aveline and Donnic shouting commands at Danarius and his lackey, who now have their guns pointed at the Chief Inspector and her Police Officer husband. I feel a pair of strong arms grab me from under the armpits and lift me up, yelling at me to run and go to the car. I'm only vaguely aware that it's Fenris' terrified voice.

_Fenris_.

_He's okay_.

_He's okay_.

I allow him to push me towards the entrance, still feeling too dazed to actually run on my own. We're only a few feet away from the exit when I hear another gun shot and a howl of pain emanating from right behind me.

_No_.

Another gunshot immediately follows that one, along with a string of swearing and painful howling. But I ignore it. I'm too busy staring at Fenris' left shoulder, right over his heart, where the black material of his button up shirt is soaking wet.

_No. Maker, please no!_

I fall down to my knees next to him, where he is crouching on the ground, gasping as he brings his hand to his wound.

The skin on his hand is drenched in a dark red liquid.

"Fenris," I whisper frantically, my violently shaking hands reaching out for him. I hear Aveline and Donnic barking out more orders to the two other men, but nothing they say makes sense. I don't know who shot who, who screamed, who caused the floor to shake when they fell to the ground.

I don't know anything.

Because I can't think.

I can't breathe.

All I can do is press down on Fenris' gunshot with my bare hands, shaking violently, watching his green eyes roll up into his head, watching him slipping away…

"Fenris, stay with me!" I yell at him. "Stay with me! Don't you dare leave me, Fenris! Don't you dare!"

His head rolls to one side, his mouth slightly open as he breathes, as he  _tries_  to keep his eyes open, to stay  _awake_.

"Help!" I scream, staring at my trembling, blood-soaked hands as they press against his now completely blood-soaked chest. My hearts stops as I watch him slowly close his eyes, as his body goes limp against the arm that I'm using to hold him up, as his breathing steadily slows down until I can barely feel it.

"Fenris!" I'm sobbing hysterically, staring at his lifeless pale face.

Another gunshot rips through the air.


	44. Chapter 44

Everything's a blur after that. I mean, literally, my vision is  _blurry_. Somewhere in some distant corner of my mind, I'm aware that Chief Inspector Aveline is crouching next to Fenris, firmly talking into her walkie talkie. I'm aware that she's saying something to me in her calm, cool voice, but I don't know  _what_. I'm very vaguely aware of a group of police men and women storming into the tavern not long after the gunshots stopped.

When the ambulance arrives, it takes two of the ambulance men to yank me off Fenris' limp body. I don't even realise that I'm holding on to him, as though for dear life, as though somehow my touch will force his heart to keep beating, his lungs to keep breathing.

"Hawke, it's alright," I hear Aveline tell me. "Just let him go. They're taking him to the hospital. He's going to be fine."

I allow myself to be pulled away from him and watch helplessly as they lift him onto a stretcher and place an oxygen mask on his face. They (the ambulance men) whisper urgently to each other as they examine the gunshot after unbuttoning his shirt and revealing his now completely red-stained skin. Even the markings are red.

At the sight of them, these hateful yet devastatingly beautiful marking, I feel a jolt and turn around, looking for the person who inflicted them. I feel a bubbling of uncontrollable fury when I see him, wounded and limping, being led out of the tavern in handcuffs. I start to look around for the bodyguard, but a groan emanating from the stretcher makes me snap my head back to the ambulance men.

 _He's alive_.

He's still unconscious, but that groan was the most beautiful and relieving sound I have ever heard in my life.

The men lift his stretcher and carry him out into the waiting ambulance van. I reach my hands out towards his body on the stretcher from my place in the ground, helplessly and silently protesting having him taken away from my side. I open my mouth and try to say something, but no sound comes out.

"Hawke?"

I blink rapidly as my gaze adjusts on Chief Inspector Aveline, who is now crouching before me, her stern green eyes level with mine.

"Are you hurt?" she asks with concern, her freckled brow furrowed.

I shake my head.

"Come on, then," she says, getting up and standing straight before me. When I don't move, she leans down and places a hand on my shoulder. "You're going with Fenris in the ambulance. You  _do_  want that, don't you?"

My eyes widening considerably, I immediately jump up to my feet and run out of the tavern, pushing my way through the thick crowd of tavern patrons and police officers. Not seeing anything but the open ambulance back doors, I sprint towards them, nearly colliding with a nurse right at the foot of the white van.

"Excuse me!" the nurse exclaims indignantly. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm with Fenris!" I reply impatiently, trying to look into the interior of the van. When she doesn't move, I glare at her. "I need to be with him! Move!"

"I don't think-" the nurse begins before being cut off by Aveline.

"It's all right, Grace, she's with the patient," she informs the nurse, who nods and immediately steps aside to let me in. I jump into the ambulance and see three medical personnel huddled over him. His shirt is completely off, and the relief I feel when I see his stomach slightly rise and fall as he breathes is beyond description. I'm ushered to sit to one side and give the group their space as they work over him.

It feels like ages before we finally get to the hospital. Throughout the entire drive, all I could do was just blankly stare at him, lying there on the ambulance bed, his eyes closed, his shoulder and the upper-left region of his chest covered in blood-stained bandages. Every now and then, a nurse would get up to touch his face and take his temperature. His heart rate was being monitored very carefully, almost as though they expected it to stop at any moment.

As soon as the ambulance arrives at the ER, the back doors of the van are thrown open and Fenris is hoisted onto one of those mobile beds. I quickly hop off the van and immediately rush after them as they push his bed into the ER and towards the operating theatres.

"I'm sorry, serah," one of the male nurses tells me at the door of Operating Theatre 1, "You'll have to wait out here. Only medical staff are allowed past this point."

"What's going to happen to him? I ask breathlessly, my heart racing in panic.

"We're going to operate on him, serah," the nurse says patiently. "I don't want to cause you more worry, but that gunshot is… serious."

"But I-"

"No, serah, I'm sorry, but you can't," the nurse says in his gentle voice, which stands in stark contrast to the firmness of his hand on my shoulder as he stops me from running into the operating theatre. "You'll have to wait here. It'll all be over soon. I promise," he smiles warmly, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

I stare at him imploringly, feeling hopeless and at a loss for words. I nod numbly and take a few steps back.

The nurse watches me for a moment before heading into the operating theatre. The heavy double doors swing shut heavily behind him.

 _Maker, please let him be fine. Please, Maker_.

 _Please_.

I pace around in the waiting area for an hour.

Two hours.

Isabela and Varric arrive at some point, I'm not aware when exactly, but they're here with me, saying soothing and comforting words to me, words that I don't really hear. Even Merrill's here; she works as a nurse at this hospital and saw us rushing in when we first arrived.

Three hours…

"Fuck! What's taking them so long?!" I yell out in exasperation.

"It can't be much longer now," Isabela says soothingly, but I can tell she's worried too.

"Can't you go and check on him, Daisy?" Varric asks.

"Yeah, can't you?" I say. "That nurse told me that only medical staff are allowed into the operating theatres. You're a nurse here."

"Yes, I suppose I-"

"There's no need," an authoritative male voice says from the waiting room entrance. We all jump, startled by his sudden and unannounced appearance.

"Is there a Marian Hawke here?" the man, who has grey hair and is dressed in the white coat of a surgeon, asks.

"Yes," I very quickly say in a hoarse voice.

"Hello, Marian," the doctor smiles. "My name is Orsino. I'm the surgeon who operated on Fenris. We've just finished and I'm very pleased to say that Fenris is in a very good and stable condition."

My eyes widen and I let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Thank the Maker!" Isabela exclaims.

"When can I see him?" I ask impatiently.

"As soon as we move him to the recovery bay, which our staff are doing right now," Dr Orsino responds gently.

"Did everything go smoothly, Dr?" Varric asks. "Was the wound bad?"

"It was a serious wound, I'll tell you that," Orsino says. "The force of the shot was so violent that it practically went right through him and shot out from his back."

"Oh my…" I raise my hands to my mouth, covering it in horror. I feel Isabela's strong grasp on my shoulder.

"It did quite a bit of damage to his capillaries, and it very nearly punctured his left lung, but luckily, it missed it by about half an inch," Orsino explains.

"Lucky indeed," Varric says, shaking his head. "And what about the perpetrators? I understand one of them is dead?"

"I… You'll have to ask Chief Inspector Aveline about that," Orsino replies. "Merrill, why don't you go and check if Fenris is in the recovery bay so that your friends can go and see him?"

"Right away, Doctor," Merrill says, and she sweeps past us with a great sense of urgency, flashing me a timid smile when she catches my eye.

"I understand it was quite the fight," Dr Orsino tells me. "You're lucky to have gotten out of it relatively unscathed. One of the police officers has been seriously injured as well. Shot in the leg, I think."

"Who?" Varric and I ask in unison.

"Officer Donnic," Orsino replies.

"Oh no…" I shake my head, thinking about how calm Aveline was when she helped me up and told me to head to the ambulance. Her husband was shot, but  _she_  wasn't a blubbering, tearful, hysterical mess like I was.

How  _pathetic_.

"How is he now?" I ask. "Do you know?"

"A colleague of mine is working on him in Operating Theatre 2. I expected to find Chief Inspector Aveline with you in the waiting room here, actually. Must be waiting outside the operating theatre…" his voice trails off, and he appears lost in thought for a while. He starts when we hear rapidly approaching footsteps out in the hallway, accompanied by the shallow breathing of a female.

"Hawke!" Merrill skids right outside the waiting room, trying to catch her breath. "You can go see him! He's in the recovery bay! He's there!"

Without even waiting for Dr Orsino's response or permission, I immediately sprint out of the waiting room, my heart racing in my ears.

"Where is it?" I yell out behind me without slowing down my pace.

"Just turn left at the end of the hallway!" Merrill calls out behind me.

I take a sharp left turn, nearly crashing into a nurse with a clipboard. I mumble a hasty apology and keep running, skidding to a halt when I see the large black label on the closed white double-doors.

**RECOVERY BAY**

I yank open one of the doors and run in, completely ignoring the painful stitch in my side and the fact that all the nurses and conscious patients are staring at me.

I pass by room after room, some of the doors shut for privacy.

Then, I see him.

I see him and my heart stops.

Time stops.

The world  _stops_.

His eyes are closed. I can see his chest gently rising up and down, which tells me he's asleep. The heart rate monitor is beeping next to him, and he has a drip inserted into the veins on the back of his left hand.

I very quietly enter the room, take a vacant chair and place it right beside his bed, never taking my eyes off his face as I slowly sink into it. I sit there, staring at him for Maker knows how long. I'm very vaguely aware that fresh, hot tears are rolling down my cheeks and falling into the pristine white bed cover over his lean, unmoving frame.

He's bandaged up, but this time, there are no blood stains. I want to take his (drip-free) hand in mine, to feel the warmth of his touch, to feel the beat of his heart, but I'm worried that I'll wake him, so I don't.

"How is he?" Merrill's soft voice floats into my ear after what seems like ages.

I look up and see her smiling, and for the first time, I notice that she's dressed in green scrubs.

Merrill looks good in green. Really brings out the colour in her eyes.

"I should be asking you that, nurse Merrill," I smile back, feeling much more like myself now that I'm with him.

"He'll be fine," she assures me. "He won't be able to use his left arm for a while, but he'll have a full recovery. Dr Orsino is confident about that."

I nod and turn my gaze back to him. He looks so peaceful. So  _beautiful_.

"I'll leave you two alone," Merrill quietly says. "Isabela and Varric have gone home. They'll drop in early tomorrow morning to see him."

"Why did they leave?" I ask.

"They wanted to give you two some privacy," Merrill explains. "He won't be asleep for long. The anaesthetic will wear off soon enough. Oh, and you can sleep in that couch by the corner," she adds, pointing to a green couch in the opposite end of the small room.

"Thanks, Merrill," I smile warmly up at her.

"Any time," she smiles back. "I'll head off now. Got a few patients to attend to. Just let one of the nurses know if you need anything."

"Okay."

"Good night," she whispers and gently shuts the door behind her.

I turn back to face Fenris. His face looks so peaceful. Almost as though he's…

_No._

_Don't think like that, Hawke_.

He's  _not_  dead.

I stare at his rising and falling chest, trying to soak in the fact that he's  _breathing_. The sound of the beeping heart rate monitor is like heavenly music to my ears.

 _I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I can't imagine my life without you. I can't and I_ won't.

I start when he suddenly snores. I bite my lower lip and smile, the joy within me nearly uncontainable. I want to jump up and sing to tell the entire world that he's  _alive_.

That I  _love_  him.

But since that would most probably have me put in a psychiatric ward in a straitjacket, I settle for silent prayer instead.

 _Thank you, Maker_.

 _Thank you_.


	45. Chapter 45

"Marian."

_No, I don't want to wear a bikini!_

"Marian?"

_I said no!_

My eyes suddenly flutter open as I'm roused from my deep slumber. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust my eyes in the dim light. When my vision clears, I see Fenris lying in bed, his face turned towards me, his eyes open and his lips smiling.

"You were moaning in your sleep," he says in a croaky voice. "I thought you were having a bad dream."

"Fenris!" I gasp, scrambling to get up from the green couch I spent the night sleeping on. I rush over to him and sit on the side of his bed, my heart racing in my chest.

"You're awake," I whisper, cradling his face and staring down at him in amazement. He merely smiles up at me, his green eyes bright and warm.

"How are you feeling?" I ask him. "Do you need something? Are you hungry? Are you comfortable? Should I call a nurse to-"

"I'm fine, Marian," he smiles weakly. "I'm just a little thirsty. Would you mind pouring me some water?"

"Sure!" I quickly get up and take the empty glass from his bedside table to the basin in the room. I fill it nearly to the brim and carefully take it back to him. I sit back down on the edge of the bed and bring the glass to his lips.

"Drink up," I whisper, watching him lovingly as he gulps down the cool water.

"Thanks," he murmurs once he's done. I set the empty glass on the bedside table and turn back to look at him. I absentmindedly start to stroke his hair away from his face, watching his eyes slowly close.

"How long have you been awake?" I ask.

"Half an hour or so," he replies without opening his eyes. "I'm not too sure."

"Shall I call for some breakfast?"

"Uhh… yeah. Yeah, okay," he nods lightly, opening his eyes to look at me. A wave of warmth rushes through me when our eyes meet.

I nod and reach over for the buzzer on the wall to the bed's left. When I turn back towards him, I feel a surprisingly strong hand cradle the back of my head and push my face downwards, until my lips are met with his.

He kisses me like he's never kissed me before. Aside from the abruptness of it, it's also…  _frantic_.

 _Desperate_.

 _Relieved_.

I feel my eyes beginning to well up with hot tears behind my closed eyelids.

"I thought I was going to lose you," he whispers against my lips, his eyes closed and his voice shaky.

I let out a strange, strangled sound that's a cross between a sigh, a laugh and a sob.

"Are you _crazy_?" I ask incredulously. "You're the one who was shot!"

"It could've been you," he replies quietly. "If I hadn't blocked you… if I hadn't taken the bullet instead…" His voice breaks before it trails off. I pull back from him and cradle his face in my hands, tears rolling down my face as I look down at him.

 _He's_  the one who was gravely shot, who was unconscious for over 18 hours, who's lying in a freaking hospital bed with drips and monitors connected to him all over, and he's worrying about  _me_.

"If something were to happen to you… if I… if I ever lost you… I don't know… I  _can't_ …" he shakes his head, clearly at a loss for words. "I can't," he finishes, his breathing quick and shallow. I hear his heart rate picking up considerably from the heart rate monitor.

"Shh," I whisper, stroking his hair with a shaking hand. "Relax. I'm fine.  _You're_  fine."

I lean in for another kiss but my lips barely manage to touch his when I hear a light knock on the door.

"You buzzed?" a brown-haired nurse pokes her head in and asks.

"Uh, yes," I reply. "Could we have some breakfast brought in here?"

"Of course," the nurse nods. "Won't be long." She smiles and closes the door.

I turn back to see him gazing at me.

"You hit your head in the Hanged Man," he says quietly. "Are you okay?"

How ridiculous is this! A wounded, bandaged patient in recovery is asking a  _visitor_  if she's okay.

He needs to sort out his priorities.

Funny thing is, I suddenly become  _very_  conscious of the throbbing pain on the side of my head.

"I'm fine," I smile. "Would you stop fussing over me? It's supposed to be the other way round!"

He smiles back- his signature half-smile- just as we hear a light knock on the door.

"Must be your breakfast," I get up and head towards the door. I freeze when I swing it open and see the person standing before me.

 _Maker's breath_.

"Marian?" I hear Fenris' voice from the bed behind me. He can't see who's at the door from his angle. "What's wrong?"

"Uhh… It's… It's umm…" I stutter, still staring at the pale, red-haired young woman awkwardly standing before me.

"It's your sister," I finally manage to say. When I don't hear a response, I tear my gaze away from Varania and turn back to look at Fenris. He's just lying there, his entire body rigid, his jaw set, his eyes cold.

"Let her in," he finally says in a steely voice.

I hesitantly step aside and wait for her to come in. When she does, I start to back out of the room, my eyes awkwardly flitting from sister to brother.

"I'll umm… I'll just leave you two-"

"No, Hawke," Fenris says sternly. "Stay. Please."

I stare at him for a moment and then nod before I slowly step back into the room, carefully shutting the door behind me.

"What do you want?" he asks her coldly, barely looking at her downcast face.

"I… I came to check on you," she replies in a low voice.

"Oh?" he responds coolly. "And since when did I matter to you? Weren't you ready to give me up to that asshole? What's changed in the space of a few hours? Enlighten me."

She looks up at him and opens her mouth, but no sound comes out of it.

"I had no choice, Leto," she finally says.

"Stop calling me that!" he snaps.

"You don't understand," she says, taking a step closer to the bed. "He was going to make me his apprentice! I would've been an alchemist! I would've been accepted as a member of the Senate one day!"

_Say what now?_

"You sold out your own brother to become an  _alchemist_?" he asks with venom. "How fucking  _pathetic_." He shakes his head in disgust.

"You have no idea what we went through!" she presses on indignantly. "What I've had to do since Mother died! This was my  _only_  chance!"

He laughs humourlessly, his green eyes glaring at her.

"I have nothing more to say to you," he says coldly. "Kindly leave. And I never want to see you or hear from you ever again. I thought I found my family… Turns out I found an enemy instead."

Variana stares at him, apparently at a loss for words. She then nods and turns away, walking past me without even looking at me. I don't move or say a word until I hear the door shut firmly behind me.

I tentatively make my way to the bed and sit on the edge. He looks at me and takes my hand in his.

"I thought discovering my past would bring a sense of belonging," he says in a rough voice, his eyes fixed on our hands, "but, I was wrong. There's nothing for me to reclaim. I… I'm alone."

My heart literally starts aching when I hear the pain in his voice and the sadness in his eyes that he's so desperately trying to hide away from me by averting his gaze.

"You're  _not_  alone," I whisper, placing my free hand on the side of his face. "I'm here, Fenris. I always will be."

He finally looks up at me, his eyes tender and warm and filled to the brim with genuine appreciation. He places his palm on the side of my face, his eyes intently gazing into mine, but he doesn't say anything.

He doesn't need to say anything. It's all there in his beautiful, bright, moss-green eyes.

We both jump when we hear yet another knock- a considerably louder one- on the door.

"Breakfast!" a female voice sings out.

I smile at him and quickly kiss his palm before springing off the bed and opening the door to let the nurse in.

"Scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon and toast," the nurse, a cheerful and plump middle-aged woman, says as she sets the tray across Fenris' bed. "Oh, and a side of fresh fruit as well! And freshly squeezed orange juice!"

"Thank you," Fenris and I smile at her.

"You're most welcome," she grins. "We're only a buzz away if you need anything. Enjoy!"

I immediately start to uncover and unwrap the food and cutlery.

"Mmm, smells good!" I smile as I help him sit up and tuck the edge of a large napkin into his collar.

"You're treating me as though I'm a child," he remarks with an amused smile.

"Don't get used to it," I grin. "It won't last. As soon as you're better, we're back to our old ways."

"Meaning?" he grins back.

"Meaning  _I'll_  be the one who's pampered and served breakfast in bed," I smirk.

He lets out a loud, genuine laugh that echoes off the tiny room's walls. My smile widens considerably at the sound of it.

"All right, tuck in," I straighten up and step back, smiling down at him like a proud parent.

"Don't you want some?" he asks.

"Nope," I smile. "All yours. I'll get myself a coffee from the coffee machine in the hallway."

"Kay," he says, and starts to cut up some sausage.

I leave the room and head towards the only coffee machine in the hallway. There's a short queue of people in front of it, no doubt visitors like myself. While I wait in line, I pull out my phone to check on any missed calls or messages. I find two missed call and one message, all from Athenril.

 _Weird_.

I open the message first.

**Hawke, it's Athenril. I need to talk to you urgently. Could you please call me as soon as you see this message?**

_Okay, this is_ really _weird_.

I call her right after I get my skinny, decaf cappuccino.

"Hello?"

"Hawke! Finally!" Athenril's usually bored voice enthusiastically says.

"What's up?" I ask, taking a sip of my cappuccino.

"We found the guy who killed your sister."

 _Oh_.

 _Okay_.

_What?!_

"Did you hear me?" she asks impatiently when she doesn't get a response. "The guy who killed your sister, we found him!"

I stare at the white wall before me, feeling numb.

"I… Yeah… Yeah, I hear you," I say in a soft voice.

"You don't sound too impressed," she says coolly.

"What? No! It's not that- No, I'm just…" I pause, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. "How did you expect me to react, Athenril? I'm in  _shock_. I really didn't expect this."

"Yeah, well, things usually happen when you least expect them to," she says. "But I promised you that we'd find him. I told you I wouldn't let all the hard work you've put into training my men go unrewarded."

"Yeah…" I nod. I think I'm having an out-of-body experience. "Where is he now? What've you done with him?"

"Dead," she responds.

"WHAT?"

The few people in the hall stare at me as my voice reverberates throughout it.

"What? He's dead. We finished him off. He was a wanted man, Hawke; you weren't the only one after him. He was head of the freaking Coterie!"

I feel tears welling up in my eyes as I remember the blank look in Bethany's empty eyes when Carver and I found her that night, brutally and mercilessly slaughtered, left to drown in her own blood.

"What was his name?" I ask in a choked voice.

"Brekker."

"Brekker," I repeat. "How did you kill him?"

"Let's just say he felt an incredible amount of pain," Athenril replies, a smirk evident in her voice.

"Good. Good," I nod, my voice surprisingly steady when you consider the fact that tears are literally falling off my face. "Thanks for letting me know, Athenril."

"Any time."

"I… I gotta go now."

"Okay. You take care, Hawke."

"And you."

I hang up and just stand there in the middle of the white hallway, completely oblivious to my surroundings.

"Messere?" A blonde male nurse is standing before me with a clipboard in his arms. "Are you all right?"

I blink rapidly and quickly wipe away my tears.

"Yeah," I nod and smile. "Yeah, I just… I'm fine, thank you."

"Okay," the nurse says, completely unconvinced. "Are you here alone?"

"No, I'm visiting someone," I respond in a thick voice.

"Okay," the nurse smiles and walks away.

Suddenly remembering Fenris, I quickly head over to the bathroom to wash my face and calm myself down.

 _Now isn't the time for your hysterics, Hawke. Fenris needs you. You can go and cry your eyes out once you're alone in your room_.

I take a deep breath, make sure my eyes aren't puffy and bloodshot, and head back to Fenris' suite.

"There you are!" he says from his bed. "What took you?"

"An old friend called me while I waited for my coffee," I smile as I approach the bed and sit.

"I would've come looking for you if I wasn't hooked to these stupid drips," he mutters sourly.

 _So adorable_.

For a second, I feel like telling him about Brekker.

Just for a second.

But when I see the smile on his face as I place my (slightly trembling) hand on his, I decide not to. He's been through enough already. He'd only just lost his own sister.

"Lie down next to me," he whispers.

I blink at him before carefully lying down in the little space he made for me on the hospital bed, nestling my head against his chest and looking up at his darling face.

"Fenris?"

"Hmm?"

"There's something I want to tell you."

"Yes?"

"Don't ever take a bullet for me again."

He chuckles and kisses the top of my head.

"There's  _nothing_  I wouldn't do for you, Marian," he murmurs. "Nothing I wouldn't do to protect you."

"You're being selfish," I snap.

"Oh?" he pulls back and looks down at me.

"You don't want to risk losing me, but it's okay for me to risk losing you?"

He doesn't say anything in response to that.

"No more reckless heroics," I say. "I mean it."

He smiles and leans in to kiss my lips.

"I can't lose you," I whisper weakly.

"You won't," he whispers back. "You won't ever lose me.


	46. Chapter 46

"Bela, could you please pass me the mashed potatoes?"

"Here you go, Daisy. I don't think Bela's the best person to pass  _anything_  around right now."

"I heard that!"

I giggle as an already drunken Isabela clumsily punches Varric on his arm. Isabela, Varric, Zevran, Merrill, Aveline, Donnic (we've become very good friends now), Fenris and I are all seated around the long marble and mahogany table in my dining room, celebrating Fenris' release from the hospital. For the first time ever, I'm hosting my very own dinner party- something that I told my mother I would  _never_ do back when I was younger as I watched her throw hissy fits and go berserk if anything wasn't going her way during prep.

I peek at Fenris on my right from the corner of my eye, my smile widening when I see that he's smiling down as he stabs at a pre-cut roast potato with his fork (I cut up all his food in advance- poor thing can't use his left arm yet).

"What?" Varric laughs. "It's true! You'd knock over and smash everything on the table before you manage to pass anything."

Laughter erupts around the table when Isabela punches him again, harder this time.

"And it's barely past seven!" Varric adds with a malicious smirk. Donnic's guffaws echo around the high-ceilinged room.

"Do you want to lose a tooth, an eye, or get a broken nose, Varric?" Isabela asks.

"I think I'll pass on all of them," Varric grins.

"I thought so."

"This duck is incredible!" Zevran exclaims from across the table. "I never knew you were such a good cook, Marian!"

I bite my lip and glance at Fenris, who is smirking back at me. We both know that I can't cook to save my life and that we'd totally be eating take away food if it wasn't for Sandal and his magical cooking skills. That guy's a savant when it comes to cooking, I'm telling you.

"Yeah, Marian," Isabela smirks and wiggles her eyebrows like a villain out of children's cartoon. "We never knew you were such an  _amazing_  cook," she winks. I feel my face turn incredibly warm and busy myself with cutting up some duck breast and roast potatoes.

"How's the food, Fenris?" I ask him quietly.

"Really delicious," he smiles.

"Hey, Marian?" Merrill pipes up.

"Yes, Merrill?"

"Didn't you invite Anders?" she asks.

"I did, actually," I say, checking the time on the grandfather clock. "Maybe he's still got a few patients at the clinic?"

"Maybe," she shrugs and resumes eating.

 _Where_ **is** _Anders? He's nearly an hour late and he hasn't even called to say he'd be late_.

"Uhh, I'm gonna rush to the bathroom," I smile at Fenris and try my best to look calm and cool as I slip out of the dining room and lock myself in the guest bathroom across the hall. I close the lid on the toilet seat and sit down as I call Anders' phone.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three.

_Damn it, Anders! Pick up!_

Seven rings.

" _Hi, this is Anders. I'm not available, so whatever you wanna say, just shoot and I'll get back to ya as soon as I can!"_

"Fuck!"

I freeze and internally curse myself when my loud voice echoes throughout the bathroom and most probably into the hallway.

I flush the toilet and type out a quick message.

 **Hey, I hope you're not ditching my little party! I'd be sorely put out. Call me as soon as you can**.

I send the message and stow my phone back in my pocket before turning on the tap and washing my hands just for the heck of it.

By the time I slip back into the dining room, Isabela's sitting on Zevran's lap, seductively meowing like a perverted, oversized cat as she picks at Zevran's food and giggles as she feeds him, Merrill giggling like a mad person as she watches them, Varric's busy showing Aveline something on his phone, and Donnic is having an animated chat with Fenris.

I casually slink back into my chair and take a long gulp of diet coke.

"Everything okay?" Fenris asks. I look up to see his brow slightly furrowed.

"Uhh, yeah," I smile innocently. "All good."

His expression totally giving away that he's unconvinced, he stares at me for a moment longer before nodding once and turning back to Donnic.

I spend the next thirty minutes trying to be as nonchalant as possible, politely smiling and nodding and listening to everyone around the table make conversation and laugh at extremely "adult" jokes (well, the jokes are solely emanating from a drunken Isabela and Zevran- no one else can comfortably laugh and joke about how a girl they once knew accidentally broke her neck and died in the midst of a five-person orgy).

When I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, all my efforts directed at being calm and collected go down the drain. I immediately pull out my phone and jump up when I see the name on the screen.

"Marian?"

"Just a second, Fenris, I gotta take this call."

I rush out of the dining room and shut the door behind me.

"Anders! Thank the Maker! I was worried  _sick_! Where the heck are—Anders?"

The voice on the other end of the call is sobbing. Almost  _hysterically_.

"Hawke," he cries. "I… I need help, Hawke. Please… Please come and… come and help me..."

He's crying so hard he can barely breathe.

"Where are you?" I immediately ask him. "Tell me where you are and I'll come and get you."

"I'm at… at the Chantry. Right outside the Chantry," he breathes raggedly before he completely breaks down and starts heavily sobbing again.

"I'll be there in five minutes. Stay where you are, okay?"

He doesn't reply. He just keeps sobbing into his phone.

"I'm in a car," he manages to say. "Old navy blue Nissan."

"Okay. I'm coming right now."

"Marian, what's wrong?"

I spin around the see Fenris standing right at the entry to the dining room, looking thoroughly worried and confused.

"It's Anders," I hastily say as I stow away my phone and start to run towards the main entrance. "He's crying like a maniac, Fenris, I need to go get him."

"I'll come with you," he calls out, already starting to catch up with me.

"No, you're hurt!" I exclaim indignantly. "He's at the Chantry, I won't be long. I'm bringing him here right away."

I yank open the main door and run out without waiting for a response, sprinting to my parked car. I drive to the gates and curse as I very impatiently wait for them to automatically open.

"Come  _on_ , dammit!" I yell. I push down on the gas as soon as they've opened wide enough to let me through, and completely disregarding the speed limit, I head to the Chantry, my heart beating madly in my chest.

I see a lone car parked beside the walls surrounding the Chantry. The engine appears to be off. I park right behind it and jump out my car, not even bothering to lock it.

I see Anders in the driver's seat, his forehead against the steering wheel. I yank open the front passenger door and slide in, startling him momentarily. He turns his face towards me and blinks twice, before he whimpers and breaks down again, grasping at me with his arms to hug me.

"Hawke!" he sobs into my shoulder as I firmly wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. "I'm a mess! I'm a fucking mess!"

"Shh," I rock him back and forth, stroking his dishevelled blonde hair. "I'm here. It's okay, Anders. Tell me what's wrong."

I patiently wait as he continues to sob, his entire body shaking violently.

"I'm a fucking mess, Hawke," he cries. "I'm a sick, miserable psychotic piece of  _shit_!"

"No, you're not," I tell him soothingly. "Stop saying that."

"You wouldn't tell me that if you knew what I-" a new torrent of hysterical sobbing stops him mid-sentence. My eyes are welling up with hot tears at the sight and sound of him so _distraught_.

"Anders,  _please_  calm down," I beg him in a whisper. " _Please_. I can help! Tell me what's wrong,  _please_!"

"I tried to do something te- _terrible_ ," he cries, the material on my left shoulder soaked in his tears.

"What?" I prompt him.

His crying subsides, but only in the slightest.

"Check the back pack in the back seat," he says in a muffled voice, his face still pressed against my shoulder. He pulls back after he realises I can't move with him holding on to me so desperately. He sits back in the driver's seat and stares down, his chest heaving as he takes deep breaths.

I turn around and see a maroon back pack in the middle of the back seat. I glance back at him, feeling utterly lost. He doesn't meet my eyes. I turn back to the bag and hesitantly reach for it, grab it from the top and, with great difficulty from its surprisingly heavy weight, pull it back to the front seat, where I place it on my lap.

I shoot Anders another glance. I see his Adam's apple move when he nervously swallows, shooting me a side glance and quickly looking away again.

"Anders…"

"Just open it, Marian," he whispers. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly and loudly.

Something tells me I don't want to open it. That I shouldn't.

I look at him one more time to read his expression. His eyes are still closed, but his brow is furrowed with worry. Internally bracing myself for the worst (whatever that may be), I grasp the zippers and pull them down.

I gasp before I can stop myself.

Explosives.

The bag is  _filled_  with explosives.

It's just like a scene from an action movie. My brain goes numb before rapidly kicking into denial mode.

"Wh-How…" I look at him and see fresh tears rolling down his face, but he doesn't make a sound.

"I was gonna blow it up," he says in a shaky voice. "Tonight."

All of the air is knocked out of me. I feel like I've been hit in the stomach by a cannon ball and plunged into ice-cold water at the same time.

"What… what do you mean you were going to blow it up?" I ask in a whisper.

"You _know_  what I mean," he says in a surprisingly stern voice.

"But…  _Why_?"

His breathing steadily becomes much quicker, shallower, and louder, as though he's having a panic attack.

"You know what it's like to lose everything, Hawke," he says, his blood-shot eyes staring through the windshield. "To have everyone and everything you love taken away from you. I was torn away from my family, from my friends, from people I  _loved_. And it was all because of the Chantry. It  _ruined_  me. It stripped me bare and threw me out to the dogs."

Tears uncontrollably fall down his face, but he blinks them away and carries on in his pained, shaking voice.

"I'm alone. I'm literally all alone. I have no one who loves me or even cares about me. I-"

" _I_  care about you, Anders," I immediately tell him. I take his left hand in both of mine and squeeze it gently. "I care about you and love you as a friend. As a brother. Heck, you're a lot closer to me than my brother. I care about you  _so_  much, how could you think otherwise?"

My voice breaks towards the end. He stares down at our hands, his lower lip trembling. Then, he looks right into my eyes for the first time tonight and cups the side of my face with his palm, wiping away my tears with his thumb.

"You're the one bright light in my entire life, Marian," he gently says. "You're my angel. The reason I wake up every morning and keep going. You saved me from myself and you saved others from me. Without you, I would've been long gone.  _Long_  gone," he finishes in a whisper.

I whimper and fling my arms around him. The feeling of his chin resting against my shoulder is beyond comforting.

"I don't deserve your caring and your love," he says weakly. "I'm such a terrible, despicable person. I fucking planned to  _kill_  people. To blow them up as though it were  _nothing_."

I shake my head against his neck and shoulder.

"You're  _not_  a terrible, despicable person, Anders," I whisper. "If you were, you wouldn't have called me tonight. You wouldn't have wanted me to stop you. You knew I would come and stop you, yet you called, begging for help. That isn't what a bad person would do."

I pull back and place my hands on either side of his incredibly warm face, looking him squarely in the eye.

"We all have good and evil within us, Anders. What defines us is what path we choose to take. And you chose the right path tonight. You've always chosen the right path because you're a good person. Never doubt that."

He tries to pull his trembling lips into a smile, but fails as he lets out a single, highly emotional sob and pulls me in for another hug.

"And all those patients you treat for free," I murmur. "You're  _their_  angel.  _Their_  saviour."


	47. Chapter 47

"Finally! Where on-"

"Fenris," I cut him off, using my shoulder to hold my phone to my ear as I take a U-turn. "We're coming home. Could you please ask Bodahn to prepare the guest room for Anders? He's staying with us tonight."

A long silence ensues.

" _Please_?" I beg. "It's urgent.  _Very_  urgent."

"Of course," he replies.

"Thanks," I smile and hang up.

As soon as I'm off the phone, Anders the hand that's not on my steering wheel and squeezes it.

"I… I'd really prefer it if we kept this between us," he says quietly.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," I smile, my eyes momentarily flicking towards his before focussing on the road again. "I'll just tell them you're… exhausted. Emotionally, I mean."

"Okay," he replies softly. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"And I'll come and pick your car tomorrow," I add. "It  _is_ your car, isn't it?"

_Can he actually afford one now?_

"It's a rental."

"Oh. When's it supposed to be back?"

"Next Monday," he replies.

"Okay. I'll bring it to my place and keep it there anyway. In case you need it."

"Thank you, Marian." He's yet to let go of my hand, but unlike the earlier stages of our friendship, I'm not uncomfortable or annoyed in the slightest.

"Don't mention it," I smile. I click on the tiny clicker attached to my keys and wait for the main gates to swing open. When I drive in and park in front of the house, I see Fenris at the door, watching us with a bit of a stern expression.

"Is he going to bite?" Anders asks with raised eyebrows when he takes a glimpse at Fenris' face.

"No, he won't," I smile. "He's never forgotten that you saved his life, you know. He would've bled to death if you hadn't stitched him up after that fight he had last year."

"Hmm," he nods. "I forgot about that. Guess I'm safe. For now," he adds with a grimace. My smile widens at the change in his mood. He's still tired and worn out, but at least the hysterical crying seems to be over and done with.

"Come on." I step out of the car, wave at Fenris, who's still watching us like a hawk from the door, and wait for Anders to come up before I lock the car.

"Hey, Fenris," Anders smiles when we arrive at the front door.

"Hey," Fenris replies curtly. He raises an ebony eyebrow at me before spinning in his heels and heading back inside.

"Bodahn's tidying up the guest room," he says in a hard voice.

"Ok, good," I smile and turn to Anders. "Wanna join us for dinner, or wanna call it a night and head to bed? Bodahn's quick at tidying up. He'll probably be done in a minute or so."

"I think I'll call it a night," Anders replies in a hoarse voice. "I… I'm not really up for a dinner party right now," he smiles weakly.

"Of course," I reply. I glance at Fenris, whose eyebrow seems to have frozen in its raised position. "Wanna come with me as I show Anders to the guest room, Fenris?"

"No need," he responds curtly. "I'll see you back in the dining hall, Hawke."

' _Hawke'. He's pissed_.

Anders watches Fenris' retreating figure with an amused expression.

"I think we should contact the Guinness World Record people," he says, his light brown eyebrows raised. "It seems I manage to piss people off without actually _doing_ anything."

"He's not pissed," I say as I start heading towards the guest room. "He's just…"

"Jealous?" Anders offers.

"No, not… well… okay, maybe a  _little_  jealous," I admit. "But I'd be jealous too if he had a female friend he was very close to."

"Hmm. I don't blame him, either," Anders says. "I wouldn't want any other guy coming anywhere near you if you were my girl."

The intensity of my blushing takes me by surprise.

 _His_  girl. In another world, that would've been possible.

Desirable, even.

But not in this world.

"Don't you have someone you're intimate with?" I ask before I could stop myself.

"You know I don't, Marian," he responds quietly.

We stop when we arrive at the guest room. It's dim, tidy and vacant. Bodahn's  _really_  quick. Impressively so.

"Well, here we are," I turn to Anders. "Make yourself at home. Just send me a text or ring Bodahn if you need anything."

He nods and smiles down at me.

_Umm…_

"Well, goodnight," I smile. Just as I start to walk away, he grabs my right wrist with incredible strength.

"Wait," he breathes.

I turn around and stare up at him with wide eyes.

"Marian," he says. "I know that there's no hope for us. I know that you love Fenris and that he loves you. I get it. But, I can't just stay silent and keep my feelings bottled up."

My eyes widen as he pauses and takes a deep breath, his light brown eyes gazing intently into mine.

"You  _must_  know that I love you," he whispers. "I've loved you for _so_  long. Ever since that day we met in the Underground, when you asked me for that map, remember? Ever since then, I couldn't get you out of my mind. I know this sounds crazy and I know nothing will ever come of it, but you  _must_  know. You  _must_."

I'm stunned.

Speechless.

Shocked beyond belief.

But most of all,  _touched_.

"I…" I shake my head lightly, trying to shake off the disbelief. "I…"

What on earth do I say, brain?

"You don't have to respond," Anders says gently. "All that matters is that you know. You know that someone in this world loves you with all his heart and  _always_  will. You know that you mean the  _world_  to someone. That he'd do _anything_  for you. That you'll never be alone as long as he's around. Even if the entire world shuns you and abandons you, I'll always be there. I'll always wait. Even if you may never come to me, I'll still wait. Always."

I stare up at him, my mouth slightly open, my mind numb. Then, as though it has a mind of its own, my right arm slowly reaches up to Anders' face, completely on its own, until my palm is touching the left side of his face. He closes his eyes and lets out a long, shuddery breath under my touch. I watch his face, not knowing what to say or think.

"Goodnight," I finally whisper, allowing my hand to gently slide down his face before I turn on my heels and walk away towards the main hall.

I lunge into the first bathroom I come across and lock myself in. I turn on the tap, bring down the lid on the toilet seat and sit down.

My entire body is shaking.

My heart is racing and I'm on the verge of hyperventilating.

When I start crying, I just let myself. I don't try to stifle my sobs or hold in my tears. I don't even know why I'm crying. I think it's just my body's way of dealing with this overwhelming wave of emotion that Anders' confession stirred up inside me. The sincerity of his words, the love in his eyes, the  _emotion_  in his voice… Even though I love Fenris and have only seen Anders as a dear brother, I can't help but feel pain and sadness. Maybe it's because of the knowledge that I've been unconsciously causing him extreme pain by not returning his love for all this time.

The  _torture_  he must be going through… that he's been going through for an entire  _year_  now. And  _secretly_  too. And that's without the immense torture his mental disorder already causes him, along with his very harsh and draining lifestyle and the fact that he's alone, with absolutely no family of his own.

 _And_  he runs a  _free clinic_!

 _Fuck_! Why does the purest soul in all of Thedas have to go through so much shit? Why?! What is it this fucked up shit?! Anders deserves the best! He deserves the absolute fucking best and all he's been getting is the opposite!

And you know what makes it worse?

The  _one_  thing that would make him happy, the  _one_  thing that he wants is in  _my_  power to give.

He wants my love.

But I can't. I can't because I love Fenris. I love him so much it's  _crazy_.

Why?! Why does life have to be so fucking unfair? Why can't the Maker give Anders someone who can love him as much as he loves me?  _Why?_

"Marian?"

A string of sharp knocks on the door startle me.

"Marian, it's me," Fenris' voice calls from the other side of the door. "Are you alright? Let me in, I can hear you crying!"

I stop my sobbing and get up with trembling legs. I walk to the bathroom mirror and look at myself.

Fuck.

My eyes are bloodshot and so fucking  _swollen_.

Whatever. Not like I can hide my current state from Fenris anyway. Not even if I wanted to. He's like an x-ray- he can always see right through me.

I open the door and look up at him.

"Maker's breath!" he gasps and pulls me in against him with his free arm (the one not in a sling), almost crushing me against his chest. "Marian, what's wrong? What happened? Did he hurt you? Did he do something to you?"

I start sobbing into his uninjured shoulder, shaking my head slowly against him.

"N-no," I sob. "No, he didn't d-do anything, I sw-swear."

"Then what's wrong?" Fenris asks in alarm. He walks us back into the bathroom and locks the door behind us. The tap is still on to muffle my sobs.

"Marian, please tell me what's wrong!" he begs me. I only cry harder at the frightened tone of his voice.

He sits down on the closed toilet seat and sits me on his lap, my face still buried into his shoulder.

"Shhh," he says into my ear, gently knocking me back and forth. An hour ago, I was doing the exact same thing to Anders.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?!_ _**I** _ _don't even know why I'm crying!_

Feeling extremely stupid, I suddenly quiet down, sniffing incessantly against his shirt. I sit up straight and wipe my eyes with my hands. He takes a wad of toilet paper and gently dabs at my eyes and my cheeks, wiping away the tears.

I don't deserve him. I don't deserve this man. I kissed Alistair and I'm crying over Anders and  _I just don't fucking deserve him!_

"Anders tried to kill himself," I whisper. I feel him instantly stiffen. I don't know what made me say it. Maybe I'm just so desperate for an excuse to explain my mad crying fit.

"He's like a brother to me, Fenris," I continue. "He's… he's really distraught."

He strokes my wet, plastered hair away from my eyes and gazes down at me, his eyes filled with concern.

"Is it his bipolar disorder?" he asks gently, the scent of the Aggregio he had for dinner filling my nostrils.

I nod against his palm.

He closes his eyes and leans in to kiss me gently. I take him by surprise when I grasp his hair with my fingers and press his lips against mine, deepening the kiss in earnest.

"We have to get back to the dinner," he murmurs against my lips, but the rough edge in his voice tells me he wants nothing more but to be alone with me.

"I don't think I can face everyone right now," I sniff. "I need to take a breather. Collect myself. Let my eyes reappear in their natural state."

"Okay," he whispers and kisses my forehead. His lips stay pressed there for a while. I close my eyes and sigh under the warmth of his touch.

"My head really hurts," I complain.

"Let's go upstairs to the bedroom. You can lie down for a while," he whispers soothingly.

I nod and stand up. He takes my hand and leads me out of the bathroom.

"There you two are!"

We both jump at the sound of Isabela's voice. We turn around and see her standing in the hallway, a glass of white wine in her hand. Her smile disappears as soon as she sees my face.

"Marian!" she gasps and hurries towards me. "What happened? Is everything all right?" she asks with sincere concern.

"Just a bit of personal drama, Bela, nothing serious," I smile weakly. "I just need some fresh air. We'll be back soon."

"Take your time, kitten," she murmurs as she strokes my hair. "Don't worry about the party, I'll take care of things."

An hour ago, she was a drunken pirate. Now, she's as sober as the Grand Cleric Elthina!

"Thanks, Bela," I smile weakly. "I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, kitten," she smiles at me and Fenris before turning back to the dining room.

"She really cares about you," Fenris gently says with a small smile.

"She's incredible," I nod. He snakes his free arm around my waist and we head upstairs to my bedroom.

As soon as I hear the door lock behind me and see the large, welcoming bed, my headache disappears.

 _Fuck my headache. Fuck my guilt. Fuck everything. Fenris is mine and he's here and he looks so darn sexy with his white hair falling over his eyes and all I can think of is 'yolo'_.

I turn to him, place my hands on either side of his face, bring it down to mine and kiss him.

His response is  _frantic_. It always is when I initiate things. If he starts it, he doesn't intensify things until I do. But when I'm the one that starts things, it's like he gets struck by lightning. He wraps his arm around my waist and slides his tongue into my mouth, moaning when I press myself against him.

He leads me to the bed and pushes me onto my back. My heart skips a couple of beats as I watch him gracefully remove the sling and swiftly unbutton his shirt with one hand and shrug out of it, allowing it to fall to the floor. I scramble to pull my top off and undo my bra. He's on me as soon as they're both off, hungrily kissing my neck and teasing my nipples with his tongue.

My eyes roll into the back of my head and I moan, my head sinking down onto the soft mattress. I wrap my legs around his waist and push him down against me, butterflies filling my insides when I hear the loud, ecstatic moan that escapes his lips when I move my hips and rub against him.

He is so  _hard_.

" _Marian_ …" he whispers breathlessly, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

I slide my hands down and undo the button of his pants. He groans and kisses me when my fingers brush against his erection.

"Marian," he whispers again, his half-closed eyes looking at me. "Look at me. I want to see your face."

I blush and fix my eyes on his as I pull down his briefs. He gasps halfway between a moan when I pump him, gently at first, then harder.

"No, I want  _you_ ," he manages to whisper in between his gasps and groans. "I want to feel  _you_."

I take my hand away and pull down my own pants and underwear. I'm literally  _twitching_. I very carefully push him onto his back, making sure his injured shoulder is untouched, and straddle him. My fingers clutch at the bed sheets when he slides into me, and I lean down to bite his lip when he lets out a particularly loud moan.

"Shhh," I whisper against his lips. "They'll hear us downstairs."

What I actually mean is  _Anders_  will hear us, but Fenris doesn't need to know that tiny little detail.

"Stop being so impossible," he whispers back. "I  _can't_  keep it down!"

I bite my lower lip and bury my face between his jaw and uninjured shoulder when he begins to thrust inside me.

"You really are good at keeping quiet, aren't you?" he whispers breathlessly as he continues to move in and out.

"What are you trying to do?" I whimper into the bed sheets. "Do you  _want_  me to scream out loud? I won't."

He chuckles into my ear and rolls over me, pinning me down with his body.

"Fenris!" I gasp in fright. "Are you mad?! Your shoulder!"

"It's fine," he whispers as he kisses my breasts and my neck. "Let  _me_  worry about that."

He holds me close and gasps into my ear as we move together. I can tell that he's trying his utmost best to keep quiet. So am I, actually. The more we move, the more  _impossible_  it becomes.

"Marian!" he pants, burying his face against my shoulder. " _Fuck_ , Marian!"

He lifts his head up and kisses me ravenously. We both come like that, moaning into each other's mouths, which is a great way of stifling the noise, actually.

We both lay there, Fenris panting on top of me.

"Think there's time for a quick shower?" he asks, taking quick and shallow breaths as he rests his forehead against mine.

"Even if there wasn't, we don't exactly have a choice," I laugh breathlessly.

He laughs back and kisses me lightly with closed eyes.

"Hmmm." The sound vibrates from deep within his chest and sends shivers down my spine. "The last thing I want to do is join everyone downstairs," he whispers. "I just want to stay here and fall asleep with you."

"What if we did just that?" I smile lazily. I'm already drifting asleep.

"You would be the worst dinner party host in Thedas," he grins.

I look at him and roll my eyes.

"Shit. You're right."

I sigh when he rolls off me and sits up. I sit up too, stretch, and proceed to leave the bed when he places a hand on my shoulder. I turn to look at him questioningly. He stares at me quietly for a moment, stroking the side of my face with the back of his fingers.

"It kills me to see you cry," he whispers. The pain in his voice stabs at my heart.

Not knowing what to say in response to that, I slowly lean in to kiss him gently.

I guess that was enough of a response to him, because he smiles, hops out of bed, and holds out his hand to lead me to the shower.


	48. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. I completely forgot about ending this story! How could I? How dare I? I only remembered when I received a review from Fallen angel on ff.net today, begging me to update! HOW CRUEL OF ME! Well, here it is; the finale. Started and finished it today. I can't believe it's finally over! (actually, it's been a long time coming, I think we could all agree on that). Forgive me for being such a terribly negligent author. I'm absolutely ashamed of myself! I hope you enjoy the conclusion as much as you enjoyed the rest of the story and thank you SO MUCH for reading this baby of mine.

Loss.

My life's been full of it.

I lost my father when I was a child. I lost my sister. My mother.

I lost Ferelden, Lothering, my childhood home and all the other places that I am now only able to revisit in my memories.

But despite all my loss, there are have also been gains.

Important ones.

Varric.

Isabela.

Merrill.

Anders, as messed up as he is, that poor soul.

Aveline.

Alistair, who is still a very dear friend.

Even Uncle Gamlen.

And then there's the most important gain of all.

Fenris.

I turn around from my spot on my dining room balcony and silently watch him politely listening to Carver tell him about his time at the Gallows.

I just can't help but smile to myself.

This guy…. This strange, white-haired, lyrium-marked guy…

He means the  _world_  to me.

 _More_  than the world.

Somehow, by some miracle from the Maker himself, this man, so quiet and unassuming, walked into my life just as it was falling apart, the broken shards too sharp and painful for me to pick up and piece them back together.

With him, I didn't need to piece them back together.

Because he gave me a new one.

A new life.

A new beginning.

And I guess I could say I did the same for him.

Speaking of which, Danarius is dead. The bastard hanged himself in his prison cell after he was sentenced to ten years imprisonment for attempted murder and grievously injuring an Officer of the Peace (fancy word for police officer). Aveline was Chief Prosecutor, and she tried to charge him with the twenty four known counts of slavery that he committed in Tevinter, including his enslavement of Fenris, but since the crime was committed in a foreign country, the Supreme Court of Kirkwall did not have jurisdiction to hear the case.

But he's dead. Fenris is finally rid of him, and that's all that matters.

Also, he finally found out who his family is.

His sister somehow got her hands on my address and mailed me a folder in October. I had no idea what was in it until Fenris came over and opened it.

I'll never forget the look on his face as he flipped through the documents that slipped out onto my bed.

His birth certificate.

An old copy of his passport as a child.

School report cards.

 _Old family photos_.

His entire body was trembling so  _much_ , I had to sit next to him and wrap my arm around his shoulders to stabilise him. He silently passed on every document and photo to me after spending a long time staring at them, taking them in, trying to  _absorb_  what his eyes were seeing.

His full name is Leto Niveus Bellator.

He was born on 2 November 1985.

His birthplace is Seheron, an island north of Tevinter.

He had straight A results in primary school.

Oh, and he  _had jet black hair_.

I remember staring at each picture in awe, as though the people in the photos were from another world.

Another dimension.

There was one of Fenris' mother, Victoria Bellator. She shared his jet black hair and large green eyes, and she was holding him in her arms in a hospital bed after giving birth to him. The joy in her eyes as she looked at her beautiful baby's peaceful face was evident even in the photograph. According to her death certificate, Victoria died of acute hypothermia in 1995, when Fenris wasn't yet ten years old.

His father was Dantius Bellator, and according to Varania, he left the family when she and her brother were very young. His whereabouts are unknown to this day.

Fenris didn't really react. He just stared and nodded as he silently took it all in. I don't blame him. I mean, it is  _a lot_  to take in. Not much you can say or do in such a situation.

I remember asking him if he needed some time alone. Some time to make sense of it all.

"No," he shook his head, causing his silky white hair to fall over his eyes. "I… I want to be with you."

I remember the way he smiled at me, so warm and true.

I remember telling him I loved him, and I remember the incredible warmth I felt when he kissed me in response.

Most of all, I remember celebrating his birthday last month. He wanted it to be simple; just the two of us. He took me to this little medieval Orlesian café in the outskirts of Kirkwall where we had the most delicious crème brûlée in existence. For his gift, I gave him a platinum bracelet with his full name and date of birth engraved on either side. I also gave him a locket with a picture of his mother in it.

I've never seen him without either gift on him since that day.

The way he looked at me when I gave them these gifts… and the way he  _kissed_  me as soon as we left the café and were alone in my car…

I lean my elbows against the balcony railings and close my eyes as I take in the cool, December air. All is calm and quiet for a while, the murmur of chatter and ringing of laughter in the background making me smile to myself again.

I suddenly feel the touch of strong, warm arms curl around my waist from behind, making me jump slightly in my surprise.

"Hey," I hear the beautifully familiar gravelly voice murmur into my ear. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I reply, turning to smile at him. "Just wanted some fresh air."

"It's nearly midnight," he says, leaning against the railings beside me. I stare in wonderment at how his lyrium markings glow in the moonlight. You just never get used to seeing that.

"What?" he smiles when he catches me staring at him.

"Nothing," I smile, blushing as I look away and focus my eyes on the full moon floating in the ebony sky. My smile widens when my eyes flicker to him and see that he's still smiling at me.

" _Yoohoo!_ "

We both turn to see Isabela approaching us with what must be her sixth drink of the night.

"There you are! Get your cute little asses in here! We're about to cut the cake!"

Fenris wraps his arm around my waist as we follow Isabela back into the dining room. A drunken and decidedly much happier Anders is busy quarrelling with Varric over some lost bet. He shoots us a salute as we pass by him, nearly spilling his drink all over his favourite black Metallica t-shirt.

In case you were wondering about Anders, he's doing a lot better now. His free clinic attracted the attention of the Kirkwall Ministry of Health, and to show their appreciation for his dedication and hard work to those in need, he's been offered a position as a General Practitioner at the Kirkwall Hospital here in Hightown. His mental state has also been a lot more stable, thanks to the meds and the weekly psych sessions he religiously attends.

And best of all, he's found himself a girlfriend!

What, I'm serious!

It's Leliana, that redheaded Orelsian girl who used to work for  _Bartrand's Bakery_. Apparently, they met at this art exhibition in Lowtown back in October, and they hit it off!

Small world, huh?

"All right, gather round, everyone!" Isabela calls out authoritatively.

"Is it midnight already?" a drunken Zevran asks, setting aside the lute he was playing.

"Five minutes away, to be exact," Isabela responds. She sticks her head out of the dining room. "Bodahn! The cake!" she yells in the kitchen's direction.

"Do you have to yell like that?" Carver hisses at her, scowling as Merrill gently pats his back to soothe him.

A few moments later, Bodahn wheels in the ridiculously large cake, with a very festive and excited Sandal right behind his heels.

"That's one heck of a cake," Aveline murmurs appreciatively as she and Donnic join the group gathering around it.

"I'll say!" Alistair says, enthusiastically rubbing his hands together.

The room is filled with camera flashes as everyone takes their phones and cameras out to snap pictures of the birthday girl, each other, and the cake.

"Okay everyone, Marian's birthday first!" Isabela calls out.

"Yes, because technically, your birthday ends at midnight, doesn't it, Marian?" Merrill asks sweetly.

"Yes it does, Merrill," I smile.

After a bit of shoving around and swapping places around the cake,everyone breaks into the universal Happy Birthday song (with Zevran swishing his arms about as though he's conducting an orchestra and Merrill's voice so very distinctly and adorably off-tune).

"Don't blow off the candles yet!" Isabela almost shrieks. "It's time for the countdown!"

"Relax, dear woman!" Zevran laughs when I jump nearly a foot up in the air in fright.

"It's time!" Leliana squeals, bringing her hands together in excitement.

Fenris shoots me a private little smile as the countdown begins.

"Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The sound of the fireworks coming in from the open balcony almost drowns out our cheering. Zevran pops open the champagne and I blow the candles amid camera flashes before I'm hastily dragged out to the balcony to watch the display with everyone else.

"It's so beautiful!" Merrill sighs in her thick Welsh accent. Carver nods as he admires the show, his bulky arm wrapped around Merrill's tiny shoulders.

We spend the next ten minutes or so drinking champagne and eating the delicious cake (made by the brilliantly talented Isabela, of course) until the fireworks die out.

"Time to open your presents!" Merrill squeaks, bouncing up and down in her excitement. We're ordered back into the dining room by Isabela (she's like the captain of a freaking ship, that woman), where a stack of presents are piled up on the brand new billiards table that Varric had delivered to my house as a surprise earlier this morning.

"You should be banned from birthday parties, Varric," Alistair sighs as he eyes the billiards table. "I mean, who can compete with  _that_?"

"And since when was gifting competitive, my dear Alistair?" Zevran asks humorously.

"Since Varric stepped into the picture," Alistair mumbles.

"Hey now, pretty boy," Varric smirks. "Don't hate me because I'm rich. Besdies, I don't see Hawke complaining."

Alistair responds by rolling his eyes as Varric resumes smoking his pipe.

One by one, I started unwrapping the gifts, anticipation filling the atmosphere to the brim.

I laugh and shake my head as I open the first parcel and pull out…

Handcuffs.

Yep. Straight out of a porno.

The entire room erupts into laughter as I dangle them up for everyone to see.

"You know, Bela," I say over the laughter, "I don't even know why you bothered signing off your card with your name."

"That obvious, huh?" Isabela winks, grinning as I reach over to kiss her on the cheek.

Next up are Anders and Leliana, who both chipped in to get me a very expensive self-diagnosis book (they kept the price label on) that covers pretty much every disease known to man.

"Saves you money you'd otherwise spend on getting a diagnosis from a crappy old GP," Anders winks.

"Thanks," I grin, hugging each of them in turn.

The next gift is the oddest one out of the bunch so far. Even odder than handcuffs.

"It's a copper relief of marigolds," Aveline informs me. "Metal is strong, copper ages well, and flowers are soft. Perfect for you."

She says that like it explains all the mysteries in the world.

"I told you we should've gotten her that cruise to Antiva," Donnic mutters into her ear. I smile and pretend I didn't hear him.

"Thank you," I tell them warmly. "It's beautiful. Really."

"Told you she'd like it," Aveline hisses after I turn back to the gift pile.

Merrill and Carver are next. They got me—

"MAKER'S BREATH! TWO TICKETS TO GREEN DAY'S KIRKWALL CONCERT!"

I immediately pounce onto Carver and kiss him multiple times on either cheek. I take it easier on Merrill though; don't wanna break any bones now, do we?

"Well now," Varric smiles as he watches my squeeze Merrill in a tight hug. "Looks like my billiard's table just got some stiff competition."

"Are all Fereldans so competitive when it comes to the sacred art of gift-giving?" Zevran asks in amusement. "In Antiva, people accept empty cigarette packs for gifts and treat them as though they were made of gold!"

"Sucks to be Antivan, then," Carver smirks down at Merrill, who covers her mouth behind her hands as she giggles.

I beam at Fenris when I catch his eye as I turn back to the last gift on the billiards table.

It's from Alistair.

"Awww. Why do I always have to be last?" Alistair groans childishly. "It  _always_ happens to me. It's a curse, I tell you."

I smile at him as I unwrap the gift paper off the rather large and rectangular parcel.

"Maker's breath," I whisper as the gift is slowly revealed. "Is that a…"

My jaw falls open to the floor and my eyes stare blankly at Alistair for what seems like  _ages_.

It's a painting.

A very familiar painting.

Of a very familiar face.

Almost  _painfully_  familiar.

No, not almost—it is  _absolutely_  painfully familiar.

"It's my mother," I murmur, staring at the beautiful face smiling back at me.

"Yeah," Alistair walks to my side and rubs his neck uncomfortably. "I… I had it commissioned, obviously. Couldn't paint like that to save my life. I… I thought you might like it," he finishes softly.

"Like it?" I put the painting down and force down my tears. "Alistair, I  _love_  it. I…" I shake my head and look back down at the painting, feeling absolutely  _speechless_.

"I wanted to give you something pleasant to remember her by," he explains. "Something that could remind you that she's always watching over you."

At this point, it becomes too much. I bite my lip to stifle a sob as the tears overflow and run down my face. I immediately fling my arms around Alistair's waist and hug him, burying my face against his shoulder.

"Thank you," I sob. "Thank you so much, Alistair. This…" I take a step back and wipe my eyes as I look up at him. "This means the  _world_  to me."

"I'm glad you like it," Alistair smiles down at me.

I accept the tissue box Merrill very sweetly hands out to me and use it to wipe my eyes as Fenris gently rubs my back.

"Wow," I laugh shakily, feeling completely embarrassed. "Talk about an awkward moment, huh?"

"Don't be silly, bella," Zevran chides me. "We're all family here. Crying in front of each other is what we do!"

"Except you've never shed a single tear in your life," Anders mutters.

"Never?" Zevran exclaims, feigning hurt. "How tragically mistaken you are, my dear Anders. I cry all the time! In fact, I cried just the other night after a lovely young lady at the Blooming Rose made me experience the greatest orgasm known to mankind."

We all erupt into laughter at that.

Ah, Zev. What would we do without you?

"Wait," Merrill suddenly says. "What about your gift, Fenris?"

Everyone goes quiet then, their eyes all fixed on Fenris, who has been silently watching me open every gift with a glass of champagne in his hand.

"Oh, he's got a gift for her, all right," Isabela grins knowingly at him. "It's just more of a… _private_  nature."

I blush and roll my eyes when she winks at me. I turn to look at Fenris reaction. His calm smile gives away nothing as he quietly sips the rest of his champagne.

By the time the party's over, it's almost four in the morning. I close the front doors after waving at the final car driving out the main gate, rubbing my eyes and yawning loudly.

"You're exhausted, Marian," Fenris remarks as I drag my feet to the foot of the stairs. "Think you'll be awake by the time I give you your gift?" he smiles.

My eyes immediately widen and all traces of exhaustion are wiped away.

"I'm definitely wide awake after hearing you mention that."

His smile widens and he takes my hand, leading me up the stairs and into my bedroom. He quietly locks the door behind us and leads me to the foot of the bed, where we both sit down.

"Marian…"

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his lap, his soft curtain of hair covering his eyes. I see him nod once to himself before looking up to meet my gaze.

 _Those green eyes_.

 _Maker_.

He smiles as he studies my face, slowly reaching his hand up to gently place it against my cheek.

I'm surprised when I feel it trembling.

"There are things that I… that I've always wanted to say, but never could," he begins, his prominent Adam's apple moving when he gulps. He slides his hand down my face and takes my right hand in both of his. He looks down at our hands on his lap, his hair once again veiling his expression. I just look at him, ignoring the loud beating of my heart in my ears as I patiently wait for him to go on.

My heart skips a beat when his green eyes flash back up to mine, their intensity taking me by surprise.

"Marian," he starts in his deep, soothing voice. "There's one reason why I never expressed my feelings towards you in words. Do you know what that reason is?"

I shake my head slowly.

He shifts even closer to me, until our thighs touch. He brings his fingers to my face and brushes my hair away from my eyes.

"Because mere words were never enough," he replies softly, his eyes warm and tender. "Because no words in existence could adequately convey the depth of my feelings towards you. The depth of my  _love_  for you."

I blink, feeling utterly  _stunned_.

"But after you told me that you loved me for the first time," he goes on, "after I actually  _heard_  it from your beautiful lips… I realised the importance of saying these words, even though I knew they weren't enough."

He pauses and watches me intently for a moment before carrying on.

"You have no idea what hearing those words did to me," he whispers. "All my life, I'd closed myself off from people. I never wanted anyone. I never needed anyone. And then I met you. Soon, I found myself wanting you.  _Needing_  you. I fell in love with you, Marian. And now it's… it's become impossible for me to tear myself away from you."

He smiles warmly as he gently wipes the tears away from my cheeks with his thumb. He then reaches behind him and pulls something out of his back pocket.

It's a small, red, velvet box.

 _Holy shit_.

 _Holy fucking_ _ **shit**_.

He opens the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring, glittering dazzlingly in the dim light cast by the dancing flames in the fireplace.

 _This is a dream. It's not the first time my brain's decided to play mean tricks on me. I'm exhausted and I'm asleep and this is nothing more than a painfully beautiful dream_.

"Marian, I love you," he says, his voice sounding more real than ever. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Would you do me the honour of accepting my hand?"

I smile widely like a goof ball and kiss him, barely able to contain myself.

I'd never dreamt of getting married.

I never really pictured myself as a married woman. It just wasn't for me. I was always very cynical about the entire idea, and the fact that so many girls fantasised about their wedding day used to annoy me to no end.

But right now?

At this very moment?

After everything he's just told me?

"Is that a yes?" he smiles after I pull away.

"That's a _hell_  yes," I grin. When I see the utter joy on his face at my response, everything in the world seems right.

Complete.

Like this is  _exactly_  the way things ought to be.

He slides the ring onto my finger, his joy barely containable. Once it's on, he brings both my hands to his lips and kisses them, his lips lingering on my ring finger.

"I love you, Fenris," I murmur. He looks up at me, gently letting go of my hands before leaning in to kiss me. When we pull away, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath cool and intoxicating against the intense warmth of my skin.

"And I love you," he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. "More than you can imagine."

And even after all the loss I've suffered, after all the pain I've had to endure, this moment right now is all that matters.

And this moment is perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering, Fenris' middle name is Latin for 'white/snowy white' and his last name is Latin for 'warrior'. Thank you once again for sticking by my labour of love for so long. You guys are AWESOME.


End file.
